#F&B Lab

[deus-ex-mona]

if my manager is to be believed, this is the situation going on in my department rn and im ju s t.

[violetisderp]

I haven't slept all night and your telling me. THE FIRST NOTIFICATION I GWT ON TUMBLR.

IS A SUGAR DADDY SCAM ???

No a- a sugar baby??? Guys actually please. I beg someone. PLEASE SOMEONE WHAT DOES THAT MEAN????

I don't even know what a sugar daddy is LOOOL

(She has a gun btw.)

Guys help. I FORGOT HOW TO TAG MY POSTS WAIT 😭

It's okay I found a way to do it. Ya'll I'm so tierd 😭

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[acesammy]

i think i may have bitten off more than i can chew

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

John Walker X Reader: Code Yellow

a/n: hated this little fucker in fatws but thunderbolts made me feral for him (i probably have issues i know)

Warnings: smut, sex pollen (because i love this shit), penetration (p in v), oral (f receiving), begging, kissing, cursing, sexual activity, friends to lovers (maybe?), mutual pining, hidden feelings, no use of y/n, f!reader.

Word count: 3.1K (well that happened)

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. The dust was fucking everywhere. If you hadn’t inhaled it—which you 100% had—you’d still be fucked, because it had come in contact with your skin. It was in you now, and you were very screwed.

This was a simple mission. All you had to do was sneak into the lab, see if any of the scientists were still around, and take them out. If they weren’t, you just needed to mess around with some reports and go back to the Watchtower. It was initially supposed to be Yelena’s mission, but once you found out it was connected to the Red Room, you’d told her absolutely not.

It was a touchy subject, and Yelena was more than willing to go through her trauma to get the job done—but it felt unnecessary to send her if you could go in her place. Yelena had accepted your suggestion, but not before giving you explicit instructions.

“Don’t touch the yellow vials.” “Why? What are they?” “Just trust me. You don’t want that stuff in your system.”

You looked down at your hands, eyes tracing over where the yellow powder clung to your skin. You hadn’t done it on purpose. The shelf had been in the way, and when you attempted to move it, everything came spilling out onto the floor. You were surrounded by pieces of broken glass and yellow dust.

John had heard the crashing sound, causing him to run out from the room he’d been exploring. His eyes searched for you, expecting you to be in some sort of trouble. But when he finally found your frame, you were just standing still and staring at the floor.

“Hey, you okay?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice, eyes wide as he started to move toward you.

“No! Don’t come closer!”

John stared at you, his body stilling. The desperation in your voice surprised him. You were normally the cool and collected one on missions. Nothing seemed to faze you. But now you looked scared, and that made anxiety spike in John’s system. He watched you look from him to the floor and then back to him. He could tell you were trying to think, so he stayed quiet.

“You need to get out of here.”

“What? No, we—”

“John, shut up!”

Okay, so something was definitely wrong. Walker was an annoying person to work with. He was sarcastic and condescending, but you two always managed to get along. Out of the team, you were the one that least hated working with him. You knew how to handle his mean comments, and he knew how to understand your silent requests.

The way you were behaving wasn’t how you normally acted during missions, so that meant something bad had happened. Walker moved to get closer to you, but you gave him a wide stare, telling him to stop without ever opening your mouth.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed.

“I spilled some fucking powder.”

John’s face broke into a grin, lips parting to make a joke.

“It’s not funny, John.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Your voice was raw against your throat. Your body shook, and he could tell you were frightened.

“Sorry. Force of habit. Just let me come over there and we can figure it out.”

“No. You have to—” Heat blossomed in your chest, making you close your eyes. Fuck. It was starting. You didn’t know if it would affect John too—him being a super soldier and all—but knowing the Red Room, you didn’t rule out the possibility. You had to get him out of the room before the effects took over your brain and you did something you’d regret later. You let out a shaky sigh, forcing yourself to look at John.

“It’s a sex pollen, John. Lena told me to avoid the yellow stuff, so I got curious and did some research. They made it to help people get horny so they’d be able to sleep with a target if needed.”

John’s eyes raked over your body, observing how much powder clung to your suit and skin. Every time he looked at you, your body longed to close the distance. You pinched your hand, forcing yourself to stay put. The smell of him was overwhelming.

“I need you to get out of here. I don’t know what it’s going to make me do if you’re in the room with me. It’s already starting to become unbearable.”

“You won’t die from it, right?”

The question surprised you. You hadn’t expected Walker to care about your well-being. The thoughtfulness made your core clench.

“No. I’ll just be uncomfortable for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

You bit into your cheek.

“Eight hours.”

“Jesus.”

John looked up at you. There was already sweat forming on your face, and your skin itched beneath your suit. You wanted to rip it off your body. But not while he was still here.

“Please, John, just wait outside. Or go back to the Tower and send backup in a few hours—I don’t know. I just need you to get out.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll wait outside the door.”

“Okay.”

John made his way toward the door, pausing as you called out his name.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever I say—don’t come in here.”

John nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. The rational part of your brain told you it couldn’t have been more than forty minutes but you felt like you’d been in here for hours. You're stripped down to your underwear, suit discarded somewhere in the room. Your body felt like it was on fire. The worst part wasn’t the heat though. It was the utter need you felt. You were so horny it hurt. 

You were laying on the floor, hands stuffed into your underwear as you tried to make yourself cum. You knew your release wouldn’t help dull the effect of the powder but you had to do something or else you’d go insane. 

You hadn't told John, because it would put you both in a compromising position, but you knew how to make the effects go away faster. It would take eight hours for it to leave naturally. But if someone were to fuck you…the relief would be instantaneous. You couldn’t do that to him.

You’d started to develop a crush on the super soldier a couple of months ago. Sure he was a piece of work, but your heart didn’t seem to care about that. You let out a frustrated groan, hand retracting from your body as you failed to bring yourself some relief. Your eyes snapped over to the door. You could smell him trough the fucking door and that just about made you go feral.

Walker sat outside the door, head resting on his knee as he waited. He should have called the team to update them on what was going on but he didn’t. A part of him felt like telling them what was going on would make it more real somehow. Another part of him, a very selfish part, wanted to make sure he was the only one you could depend on if needed. John had always found you attractive but things were complicated. His family had left him not long ago and he wasn’t sure he deserved to have a romantic life any time soon. But then you’d look at him a certain way, or you’d lean over his body as you went over plans and his heart would jump into his throat. He never planned on telling you before.

He was starting to rethink that now.

“John.”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. He shifted around, lifting himself up.

“John.”

Your voice was breathy, only barely dulled by the metal door that separated the two of you.

“You okay?”

“No. It hurts , I need….”

Your voice trailed off. John pressed his ear to the door trying to listen for you. He could hear you panting, small whimpering leaving your mouth. John's dick jumped in his pants. Quit it. 

“Please open the door. Please, I need you so bad. I can smell you out there. Fuck you smell so good.”

John's hands clenched into fists at his side, head leaning against the cool metal. He wanted to open the door. He wanted it so bad but you’d told him not to. So he didn’t.

“John please. Just open the door. I need you.”

“Fuck.”

The word slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.

“You told me to stay out here, remember? I promised you.”

“I was wrong John. Please I’ll be such a good girl I promise.”

That was his breaking point. The way your voice sounded so fucking wrecked, the way you were begging him for help. Who was he to deny you? So he opened the door and the sight before him almost made his brain short circuit.

You were on your knees before him, wearing only your bra and underwear. The moment he opened the door your head shot up to look at his face. Your pupils were blown wide, lips parted as you let out small pants.

Before he could even think about moving you were latching onto him. Your arms wrapped around his legs, head resting against his thigh. You nuzzle your face into his groin and his knees almost buckle. He tugged you off of him, much to your disappointment. You opened your mouth to complain but before you could John had crouched down, making his face level with yours. 

“Are you sure you want this?”

He knew you would probably say yes to whatever he asked you but he needed to hear you say it, even in your altered state. He needed to hear you say you needed him. Not because it would flare his ego but because he knew that as soon as he kissed you he would be a gone man. His thoughts would be consumed by you and everything would change between the two of you forever. 

“I want you John. I want you so bad.”

That was all he needed. His lips crashed into yours. You met him with desperation, tongue moving against his teeth as he opened his mouth to you. His hands dig into your skin, trying to tether himself to reality. This could be the first, and only, time he had an opportunity like this. He didn’t want to waste it. You grumbled something against his lips, causing him to pull away.

“What did you say?”

“You’re wearing too much shit. Take it off.”

You tugged at his suit in desperation.

“I want to feel your skin against me.”

John nodded, raising for a moment to strip out of his suit. It wasn't an easy task but he managed. Once he was only in his boxers he moved back to the floor, giving you a bruising kiss. He guided your body to lay down, his own caging you against the floor. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, grinding yourself against his growing bulge. Your nails raked against his back as he bit into your lip.

He began moving down your body, lips pressing kisses to every inch he could until he was face to face with your pussy. He could see the wet spot on your underwear. The sight made his dick twitch. John glanced up at you, his fingers gripping onto your waistband.

“Can I take this off?”

You nodded enthusiastically. John couldn’t help but smile at your reaction. With one tug he managed to get your underwear off your body. His eyes widened at the sight before him. 

“Jesus. You're soaked.”

You let out a small whine as his fingers moved over your folds. 

“Shh, pretty girl. I’m gonna help you out.”

John's head moved between your legs and you swore you had just died and gone to heaven. His beard scraped against your thighs as he ate you out. With every skill full lick John got you closer and closer to your desired release. Your hands weaved into his hair, forcing his head to stay where it was. 

“So good John it feels so fucking good.”

The praise went straight to his dick, causing him to rut against the floor. He would fuck you but he needed you to cum on his tongue first. One of his hands moved to your pussy, thumb moving over your clit as he shoved his tongue inside you. Your body locked, hips rising as your orgasm washed over you. 

“John!”

John continued to lap at your cunt, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you tried to squirm away from him. After a moment your body relaxed beneath him and he took it as a sign to stop. He raised his head to look at you expecting to see a blissed out expression but that's not what he saw.

You looked fucking hungry.

Your hands moved to tug John up, lips crashing into his as you tasted yourself on him. You moved one hand down his stomach, fingers tracing over his muscles before finding his boxers. You palm him through the fabric and he groans.

“Put it in me John. Want to feel you inside.”

“Fuck darling. You sure?”

“Please. Need you.”

Yeah there was no way in hell he’d say no to you. He lifted himself up, tugging his dick out from its confines. Your mouth salivated at the sight, core clenching in anticipation. John wrapped his hand around his dick, lining it up with your entrance. He moved in slowly, trying to savour the feeling despite the desparte need to fuck into you. You were a mumbling mess beneath him.

“So big.”

“Yeah? Like it?”

“Love it.”

He snapped his hips, causing you to cry out. Your legs wrapped against his waist, trying to keep him as deep as possible. John began moving in against you. With the way you were clenching around him he wasn't going to be able to keep this up for long.

“Harder.”

“What?”

You grabbed onto his beard, forcing to look at you.

“Fuck me harder.”

Your mouth opened wide as John followed your request. He used his super strength to keep you pinned down as he began to ram into you. Praise slipped from your lips as he fucked you, only spurring him in.

Without so much as a warning your orgasm washed over you. Your body locked up again as you gushed onto John's dick. The moan you let out of his name was enough to make his release come. He painted your walls with his seed, body sagging onto yours as he did. 

John forced himself to pull out, much to your dismay. Your body was no longer burning and the ache you’d been feeling was completely gone. You’d fixed one issue while creating a new one entirely.

“I’m sorry.”

John turned to look at you, his chest raising and falling as he tried to compose himself. You lifted your body off the ground, moving to get up. Despite the exhaustion he felt John followed after you, rising from the floor. You had your back turned to him, arms wrapped around your chest.

“Hey.”

John's hand wrapped around your shoulder, lightly tugging you so you’d face him. You glanced up at him, brows furrowed. 

“Don’t apologise, it wasn't your fault.”

“Except that it was. I knocked the stupid powder off the shelf. I made you fuck me even-”

“Woah, hold on. You didn’t make me do anything. I did it because I thought maybe it would help. But mostly because I was being selfish.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, you gonna make me spell it out?”

You gave him a shrug. John let out a sigh, hands moving to cross over his chest. He was protecting his heart. Even if he didn’t realise it. He was preparing himself for the possibility that now, without that stuff in your system, you’d be repulsed by him.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And yeah i’ve wanted to fuck you for a while. So if anyone should apologise it should be me. Because you-

“Shut up.”

John looked at you, mouth open with unspoken words.

“Just shut up and kiss me Walker.”

And he did. He kissed you like it was the first time. He kissed you like he hadn't been inside you mere moments ago. Kissed you like he’d just taken you out on a date and was saying goodbye at your doorstep. You kissed and kissed and kissed until you couldn’t breathe. Both of you pulled apart for air. You looked up at John with the most love filled eyes he’d ever seen and he couldn’t help but grin down at you. 

“I take it you like me too?”

“Thought it was obvious when I was begging for your dick through the door.”

“Just wanted to make sure it was actually you and not the powder.”

You placed another peak to his lips.

“Oh no. It was definitely me.”

John smiled, tugging you into his arms.

The two of you arrived at the Tower three hours later than planned. The team had been about to step out to rescue you when you’d stepped out of the elevator. Your hand was grasped in Walkers as you two made it to the main room. Everyone's eyes snapped to look at you two.

“Where the fuck where you guys?” Yelena asked.

“On the mission.” John answered calmly.

You stifled a laugh, biting into your lip.

“You were supposed to be here three hours ago!”

John let out a small shrug at Bucky's outburst, turning to look at you with a smile.

“Guess we lost track of time.”

You repressed the urge to slap his arm. John turned back to the rest of the team.

“Well i’m gonna take a shower. Ended up working up a sweat.”

A blush coted your cheeks as John gave you a cheeky smirk before making his way towards his room. You watched him go, eyes catching on his ass. You turned back to Yelena, who was just staring at you.

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, knowing she’d find out eventually you opted to tell her.

“I touched the yellow shit.”

Yelena's eyes widened in understanding. 

“Oh uhg blah! That’s disgusting.”

You just shrug, turning on your heels and walking towards John's room. You were suddenly feeling the need to shower as well. 

[therealtorasia]

Best F&B brands for 2023 in Vietnam revealed

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

Examination [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x doctor!reader

wc: 1.7k

summary: Bob suffers a concussion and Nat insists he get checked out. He doesn't seem convinced until he meets the doctor who will examine him.

You were reviewing files and filling out some medical certification forms when someone knocked on your door. You didn't remember having a checkup appointment scheduled at that time, so a frown accompanied you as you walked to the doorknob. You had hoped it was just a colleague who needed help.

“Lieutenants?”

“Good morning, doctor,” the woman murmured cordially.

On her green jumpsuit was an embroidered patch that read Natasha Trace, below her callsign and a shield. She was firmly holding the arm of one of her crewmates, a bespectacled man you remembered from previous medical exams. You checked his name by looking at the left side of his chest.

“My partner suffered a concussion while we were flying,” she continued, “Do you think you could check him out?”

“Of course. Come this way.”

“I’m fine,” the boy complained. However, his actions contradicted him as he held the side of his head with his palm open. “It was nothing.”

“She has to check you out anyway. It could be something bad.”

Her tone of voice was firm, and you assumed this wasn't just an argument that had surfaced. You vaguely remembered the two of them being a team on the plane, so you understood her insistence to some extent.

You put on the lab coat over your black clothes, hung the stethoscope around your neck, and grabbed some tools you'd need for the evaluation. Calmly, you asked the woman to guide him to the examination table so he could sit there, and you instructed him to remove his glasses. You also offered her a chair if she wanted to rest during the procedure.

“Okay, let’s get started, shall we?” you announced, positioning yourself between his legs without being intrusive. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know?”

“I need to know if you know,” you smiled, at the apparent disappointment that had seeped into his voice.

“Robert Floyd. They call me Bob.”

“Fine, Bob,” you murmured.

His name hung between you for a second before your gloved hands found his head. You carefully moved his hair to the side, feeling for any unevenness hidden beneath his skin.

“Do you know what day of the week it is today?”

"Thursday"

“Good, we’re doing well,” you flattered him, with a smile. “Who’s the president?”

“Biden?”

"You're sure?"

“Yes. Sure,” he nodded, feeling quite confident with the answer.

“And where do you feel the blow? Here?”

You gently pressed the right side of his head. He reacted with only a grimace that didn't quite turn into a gesture of pain.

“Here it is. There’s no blood, just a bump,” you informed him. “But I need to check you to rule out internal bleeding. Sometimes the wound doesn’t find a way out, but it’s there.”

The man nodded slightly every time you spoke to him, and although he seemed somewhat lethargic, you wouldn't have classified it as alarmingly disoriented. You took a medical penlight from your lab coat pocket and explained that you were going to check his pupil reflexes for any abnormalities—if any—based on how his eyes reacted to light.

You lifted his face with your fingertips on his chin. He didn't resist. On the contrary, he let himself be guided, as if that brief hold anchored him to something.

“Look this way. Now look at the light… good. Reactive pupils. Does the light bother you?”

“A little. About normal.”

You hummed a nod, focused on catching any change in his reaction. He, there under your touch, seemed mesmerized by your movements.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are, Bob?”

“Blues”

“They’re very pretty,” you exclaimed without thinking. To try to fix it, you asked, “Blue like the color of the sky?”

“I would say more like the sea,” he replied. “Dark… when it’s about to rain.”

The comparison took you by surprise. There was something in his voice that wasn't meant to shock. He said it like someone describing something he knew very well.

You turned off the flashlight without taking your eyes off him. You gently released him from your touch.

"Now I'm going to move my finger. I need you to follow it with your eyes, without moving your head. If it hurts, let me know."

Bob obeyed. His pupils moved precisely. There were no signs of anisocoria or loss of focus.

“Good job. Now I want you to touch the tip of your nose with your index finger and then mine. Three times.”

He smiled faintly. It wasn't blatant. It was slight, involuntary, as if the command was too intimate for him not to notice. His fingers performed the exercise, though on the third repetition, his index finger touched your nose more slowly than before. You said nothing. But you registered everything.

"Do you feel any ringing in your ears? Dizziness?"

“I feel a little dizzy,” he exclaimed, though you saw a hint of doubt as the words left his mouth. “But I don’t think it’s the blow. It’s just… you’re so close.”

The phrase wasn't a play or a joke. It was honest, loaded with something he didn't try to hide. You stared at him without moving, measuring the fine line between side effect and real impulse.

You carefully began an examination of his neck to rule out cervical injury, and as you felt around and asked him if it hurt, he said only a little. Again, nothing out of the question.

“Your shampoo smells nice,” he whispered suddenly. “It smells like lavender, but with something else… rosemary?”

You laughed nervously, trying to ignore the fact that he'd leaned a little closer to your body to capture the scent. The fact that his body emanated such warmth at the proximity didn't help you stay calm either.

“You are so perceptive. Give me your arm.”

You walked over to the cuff and began taking his blood pressure. He remained silent as you inflated and released the air. After a minute, the number appeared on the screen: elevated, but not critical.

“Your blood pressure is a little high.”

“I’m in a small room, you’re right in front of me, and you just told me my eyes are pretty,” he justified himself. “Is it that surprising?”

You let out a short laugh, barely audible.

“Are you always this flirtatious?” you asked, feigning seriousness. “Or is this a symptom I should be recording?”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” chimed in the pilot, who had remained silent until now. “Bob is usually charming, though he doesn’t show it much. It’s probably just the concussion.”

“It might still be worth checking it out,” he insisted. “You know, just in case it gets worse.”

“Would we classify this as overconfidence or the disappearance of shyness?” you decided to joke.

There was a warmth spreading through your chest, even though you knew it wasn't ethical or appropriate to get so flustered with a patient. Hoping to salvage what little professionalism remained, you spoke before he could respond:

“Let me take your heart rate.”

Next, you placed the stethoscope against his chest and the ear tips in their place. You registered the heartbeat. It was firm. A little rapid, not pathological, but not normal either.

You had to lean a little closer to hear properly. You heard him suck in his breath.

“Breathe normally”

“I try,” he exhaled honestly. His breath tickled your cheek, and his voice was so low you could barely hear him. “It’s hard with such a beautiful doctor.”

“I can call another medic if that makes you feel more comfortable,” you whispered. By that point, you'd already given up, so you didn't even try to hide your smile.

“No. Stay, I like you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure as he looked at you with that mix of genuine interest and something harder to name. With a firm voice, you resumed your clinical approach.

“Okay, Bob. Everything indicates you're fine, but you need complete rest. No flying or sudden maneuvers at least until tomorrow. I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day. Nothing that involves force, pressure changes, or adrenaline.”

He looked at you intently, as if memorizing your words was as important as following them.

“If you get a headache, you can take some paracetamol—500 milligrams, no more than once every six hours," you added, writing it on his file sheet. “But if the pain gets worse, or if you notice blurred vision, nausea, drowsiness… you come right away. Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated softly.

“You’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise,” you continued filling out his medical report, under his watchful eye. When you finished, you took something else out of your pocket and offered it to him: “Do you want a lollipop?”

Bob blinked, and the smile that spread across his face was like a warm breeze.

“Can you still give it to me even though I’m an adult now?”

“To my lovely, well-behaved patients, yes,” you replied, your expression coming out sweeter than you thought.

He took it, letting his fingers brush against yours casually but deliberately. Phoenix watched the exchange with a mocking smile.

“What if…?” he began, lacking the confidence he’d spoken with earlier. “What if I feel weird later? Could you stop by my room? Just to make sure everything’s okay?”

It took you by surprise, not because of the content of the question, but because of the way he said it: without pressure, without pretense. Just with disarming honesty.

"I could do it in about two or three hours, okay? That way you'll have more peace of mind."

Bob smiled victoriously and nodded happily. Phoenix stood up to approach him, forcing you to move away to give them space.

“Come on, Casanova. You’re going straight to sleep.”

“Fineee” Bob replied reluctantly, as he walked toward her with the paddle between his fingers.

Before leaving, he turned around one last time.

“Thank you, doctor.”

"It’s nothing. Just rest up and take care of yourself" you said, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

She thanked you too and then they both left.

You tried to continue with your duties. You put on the new gloves, updated the file, checked the next name on the list.

But the heat in your cheeks didn't go away. Nor did the sudden awareness of how conscious you were of every step you took. You'd seen dozens of patients that week, and yet, Bob Floyd had just become a tiny anomaly in your pulse that would be hard to ignore during the day.

taglist <3: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[mindmelter]

Spray The Brain

My neighbor’s hot son, Nick, always has that sweaty jock glow when he comes home from playing football with his friends. I watch him from my window—his bronzed skin soaked in sweat, clinging to his muscular frame. Today, I decide it’s finally time to do something about it.

In my basement lab, I’ve been working on something dangerous: a special spray. It’s filled with a brain-eating ameba I engineered myself—microscopic creatures that devour the higher functions of the brain, turning gray matter into compliant mush. But the body? The body stays perfect—obedient, functional, responsive.

I walk outside my house and call out to him, hiding the spray bottle behind my back. He turns to me, panting, curious. I blast the spray right into his face. One quick burst should be enough, I think.

He blinks in confusion. Then I see it—the change. His eyes go unfocused. His mouth slackens, tongue slipping out just a little. That vacant, dumb look settles on his face, the kind only someone with a brain turned to mush could wear. He stands there, still and empty. Mine.

"Follow me inside, Nick," I say.

"Hhh... f-follow... me... i-inside... N-Nick..." he mumbles back, struggling. He can't form words of his own anymore—not with his brain so far gone.

He obeys without hesitation, sweat still dripping from his hard pecs and sliding down the ridges of his abs. I lead him into the house and ease him into a chair.

As I look down at him, my cock gets hard. I quickly kneel between his legs, letting my tongue savor the salty taste of his abdomen. I trace my hands over his chest, nibble his nipples, and worship every drop of sweat his body has to offer.

"You taste so good, even better than I imagined," I murmur, sucking gently on one of his nipples.

"Hhhh... y-you... t-taste... sssso... good... b-better... than... I—I imaaaaagined..." he echoes in broken syllables, drool trailing down his chin.

"Yes, you do, you brainless fucker. Now let’s see what you’ve been hiding."

I pull his shorts down, revealing a thick, heavy cock—drenched in sweat and musk after hours playing football. I press my face into his balls, inhaling deeply, letting the scent flood my senses. He stiffens, and I take his shaft into my mouth.

I lick. I suck. I feast.

I spent half an hour playing with Nick's cock and balls when he started to show signs of awareness.

"Ahh... wha—wha’s... happ’nin’...?" he slurs, his eyes glazed down at me with his cock inside my mouth. "F-feels... weird... wh-what are you... d-doing?"

Shit! There’s still something left inside his head. I thought one burst would be enough to wipe his brain clean. Guess not. So I grabbed the spray and hit him with two more doses—One extra for good measure.

"C-can’t... think... brain’s... s-slippin’..." he mutters, drooling more as a lazy grin spreads across his face and his eyes roll back. He looks even dumber now—empty in the best way.

"There we go. Now you’re officially my personal musktoy," I say as I mount him and start riding his cock while he just sits there like a doll—expression blank, lips parted, tongue peeking out lazily. A beautiful, sweaty, mindless slave. No thoughts, just body.

[in-vyn-cible]

I’d like to remind everyone that a photo of a nestling Kaua’i ō’ō exist and should give a BIG thank you to John Sincock who also has an unpublished paper about the ō’ō and his trips to Alaka’i swamp. This is the only known photograph of a nestling ō’ō. You can find this photo on the birds of the world website (linked in citation)

Sykes Jr., P. W., A. K. Kepler, C. B. Kepler, and J. M. Scott (2020). Kauai Oo (Moho braccatus), version 1.0. In Birds of the World (A. F. Poole, Editor). Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Ithaca, NY, USA. https://doi.org/10.2173/bow.kauoo.01

I hope the rest of his photos are out there somewhere. I was super lucky to be able to find his unpublished paper as well as some memos (shout out to Daniel Lewis who was able to send me the memos AND wrote about sincock and the ō’ō in his book Belonging on an Island : Birds, Extinction and Evolution in Hawai’i)

[bitchface24-7]

HIS CONCUBINE(S) - VIKTOR X READER + JAYCE

synopsis: you followed Viktor to Zaun as he heals the ill and hurt from their pain. You’re his best friend, one of his partners, and now you’re a concubine. You're also Viktor’s right hand, the second leader of the commune. You couldn’t ask for a better life.

warnings: suggestiveness, getting walked in on, persuasion (damn, there goes this timeline), Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m (+ Jayce 😏)

p.s. again, this came up in conversation with @darlingmel (they changed their user) our convos are wild. If anyone wants to chat and fan girl/boy about arcane and our lovelies, I'm all for it :)

This wasn't expected. Everything that occurred before this very moment wasn't expected. But it’s nothing you'll ever complain about.

You two have built a commune, a safe haven for the people of Zaun. As Viktor heals them of all illness, aches, and pains. He's all powerful, he's kind, he's inspiring.

He's yours.

When he left the lab you secretly followed him. He caught you, obviously and quietly asked, “Why’d you come with me?”

You easily replied, “Because you need me.”

And he didn't refuse. He didn't deny it, and with that, you two made a safe spot for people who just want to live their lives in peace.

Viktor's changed a bit, but you still love him. It’s a bit staggering sometimes, but when it’s just you two it’s like nothing changed.

Except for the fact Viktor is much more touchy now.

A hand wrapped around your waist, on your hip, a hand gripping your bicep, your thigh. His hands moving up and down your sides, your back, a hand casually placed between your thighs.

The two of you are showing more skin than ever before. Viktor with his blanket dress held together with leather straps and a pin, you with your loose bottoms that sinch around your waist and cover your genitals, your legs completely exposed, with a small loose top to match.

Everyone knows your importance to The Herald. Your place at his side.

Everyone knows you're his partner.

Your other partner is about to find out as well.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The two of you are making out like teenagers in your shared space of the commune. Groping and caressing each other desperately, Viktor takes off your loose shirt and gazes appreciatively at your chest. He flicks a nipple and you gasp in pleasure, he can’t help but smirk at you.

“So sweet for me, so needy. So perfect.”

You grind your hips against his and appreciate his body, his smooth purple skin, the metal bits attached to him, his tiny waist, his long hair.

The two of you are so consumed in each other that you don't hear someone enter your space, until you hear a gasp and a massive crash.

The two of you pull away quickly and look to the side, and see someone you didn't think you’d ever see again; it’s Jayce.

And he's gapping at the two of you.

“Jayce, you came.” Viktor states, his voice smooth and happy. You look to Viktor and he nods as you get off his lap, his handmade gown undone and pooling at his tiny waist; his chest bare for the world to see.

You casually walk to Jayce, the only part keeping you modest being your loincloth. Your chest is exposed, your jewelry tinkling as you walk to your other partner, the one you thought despised you two. The one you thought was lost to you two.

“Jayce, you’re here! I never thought I'd see you again!” You exclaim as you rush up to hug him. He's dirty, smells a bit off, and looks exhausted.

He's still handsome.

He slowly hugs you back and you feel him shiver as your shoulder gets wet. Oh… he's crying.

That won't do.

“Come with me, let's get you cleaned up.” You say sweetly as you guide him out of the commune, slowly tying your top back on. Jayce looks over his shoulder to stare at Viktor, who just lightly smiles at him and nods softly, “Go. I will be right here when you come back.”

Jayce goes without a fight.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hum as you set the bath up, steam slowly spreading across the room. The scent is nice and light, a bit sweet as well. A nice mix of lavender and vanilla.

Jayce slowly undresses and hesitates when removing his leg brace, you help him and guide him into the warm fragranced water. He groans as he sits and appreciates the warmth of the water, helping his sore muscles.

“Do you need any help at all?” You ask quietly as you watch Jayce carefully, he looks at you and his lips thin in contemplation. “I can wash my own body. I'd need help with my back and hair though.”

You nod and hand him the soaped up cloth as he washes his arms, you get a cup and fill it with water, asking Jayce to tilt back his head; he does it easily.

A lathered hand of shampoo starts to massage his head and Jayce whines, pushing back into your hands, your eyebrows furrow, “What happened to you Jayce? You're different…”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you're not. You're tired, you're hurt, you're leaning into my touch like a cat appreciating the sunlight.”

Jayce sighs sadly, “I don't know. I fell into a cave, my hammer fell onto my leg, I felt like I was going insane.”

You quietly look at him as you rinse the shampoo out of his hair, adding conditioner, and taking the rag to wash his back as Jayce just sits there.

The silence is broken by a whisper, “What is this place?”

“This is a commune for peace. To be healed, cared for, to be hidden from the war.”

Jayce inhales sharply and looks to you over his shoulder as you rinse his back, “What do you all do here? I saw a garden and… a forge.”

You smile as you tilt his head back and clean his hair one last time, “We’re self-sufficient. We cleansed the soil for prime gardening, and we make everything ourselves.”

“Why a forge?”

“Because we miss you Jayce. We love you, and we wanted a reminder of you; even when you're not here.”

Jayce’s exhale is choppy at your statement, “You two looked pretty cosy.”

You laugh at his indignant tone, “No need for jealousy Jayce, there's only two people Viktor wants by his side, and the other finally came to us.”

Jayce looks at you like a kicked puppy as you lightly kiss his cheek, “Time to change your clothes. I won't let you wear those dirty rags anymore. Its time you experience some comfort after what you've been through.”

Jayce lets you dress him up like a doll without fuss before leading him back to the commune.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor truly hasn't move from his spot. He only gets up when he sees you and Jayce. He sashays toward you two.

“Come, relax. I believe a long sleep is what you desperately need Jayce.”

Jayce huffs a laugh as Viktor puts a hand on his shoulder, slowly crawling up to cup his nape. Running his fingers at the back of his head. Your hand is still clasped into one of his.

He slumps into the bed, and damn near passes out in milliseconds. His eyes peer open as you and Viktor take a spot on each side of the exhausted man.

Viktor is carding a hand through Jayce's hair as you trace his face lightly with the pads of your hand, dragging them down his neck and chest.

Jayce sighs in content as you two take care of him. He's needed this, desperately.

“Sleep Jayce.” Viktor quietly states as he plays with his hair, “We’ll be here when you wake up.” You sweetly add as you look to your other partner.

Jayce's eyes slowly shut as his breath evens out, the two of you don't stop lightly touching him until you're certain he's asleep.

“He came.” You quietly say, your voice tinged with awe. Viktor smiles lightly at you, “He did.”

“He’s staying.”

“He is.” Viktor consents to your demanding tone. As if he'd let Jayce leave. He's his other partner, he won't let him out of his sight.

Hopefully Jayce complies.

If not... You'll make him.

He belongs to the two of you after all.

😏😏😏 oh to be Viktors concubine as he's the herald.

p.s. Your outfit is inspired by Chel’s from “The Road to Eldorado” (2000)

[hy6erion]

can you do a jayce nsfw alphabet!!!

jayce talis nsfw alphabet

cw: explicit, fem! reader, switch! jayce, switch! reader, no other notices/ warnings I think 😭

A = Aftercare

Jayce is devoted. Whether he’s just ruined you with his hands on your throat or let you ride him until he begged, he always ends it by cleaning you gently, stroking your skin, kissing your wrists. If you topped him, he gets clingy after—nuzzled into your chest, voice soft, asking, “Was I good for you?”

B = Body part

On you: Your hips. He lives for holding them—whether he’s fucking into you or being ridden slow, his hands are always on your waist. If you straddle him and grab his wrists to pin them down, you’ll see his eyes flutter.

On him: His back. He likes it when your nails dig in. When you leave scratches. If you rake them down while topping? He groans so deep.

C = Cum

Jayce is a mess. He cums with his whole body—back arched, jaw clenched, voice raw. If he’s topping, he fills you up with long, thick pulses, holding you down as he groans your name. If you’re on top? He’ll twitch hard in your hand, bite his knuckle, pant your name like he’s not supposed to say it.

D = Dirty Talk

Switch king. When he’s in charge? Filthy, smug, low:

“Can’t take it, can you? You love being fucked dumb, huh?”

When you’re on top? Breathless, broken, needy:

“Please… don’t stop. I—fuck—please let me cum, I need it, I’ll be good—”

E = Experience

He’s had enough partners to know what he likes, but he’s never let anyone take control like he lets you. At first, it surprises him—how good it feels to surrender.

F = Favorite Position

Either: legs pressed to your chest, him over you, slow and deep while you fall apart.

Or: sitting on the edge of the bed, you in his lap, riding him until he begs. His arms tied, lips parted, trembling as you bounce on his cock.

G = Goofy

He’s not a clown in bed, but when he’s comfortable, there’s playfulness. Smirks when you tease. A low laugh when you can’t stop grinding on him. A little chuckle when he tries to hold in a moan and fails. Sex with Jayce isn’t silly—but it’s joyous.

H = Hair

Jayce has soft chest hair, especially around his pecs and lower stomach. Not overly groomed—just natural, masculine, and begging to be licked. Down below, he keeps it neat but not bare. You’ve mouthed at his happy trail more than once just to watch him twitch.

I = Intimacy

Whether he’s slamming into you or whimpering under your palm, sex with Jayce always feels personal. He looks at you like he means it. He kisses you in between thrusts. He holds your hand when you’re coming. Even when he’s being used, his love is in every breath.

J = Jack off

Jayce doesn’t do it as often now that you’re around, but when he does? It’s all about you. He pictures your mouth, your moans, the exact way your thighs clench when you’re close. If you’ve ever watched him do it, he gets so red—but he loves it.

K = Kinks

Power play: He can pin you down or let you pin him—both ruin him.

Bondage: Light restraints when he’s bottoming—loves it when you cuff his wrists to the headboard.

Praise and degradation.

Overstimulation: Both ways, he likes being pushed past the edge.

Begging kink: Yours or his.

Mutual obsession: Possessive touches, love bites, whispered claims.

L = Location

Jayce likes familiar places: the bedroom, the shower, the couch. But if you whisper something filthy in his ear at work? He will pull you into his lab and take you apart over the desk. Or let you ride him in the chair while the door’s locked.

M = Motivation

You in his shirt. Your breath catching. The little sighs you make when he touches your waist. The way your thighs tense when you’re flustered. He notices everything.

N = No

Jayce has firm boundaries. He’ll always ask first. Nothing degrading that crosses into actual cruelty. No public sex in front of others. He likes roughness—but not humiliation. Safe words? Non-negotiable.

O = Oral

Giving: He’s so good. Warm tongue, strong arms holding you down, soft growls as he devours you. He looks up at you with those hazy brown eyes and doesn’t stop until you’re sobbing.

Receiving: He loses it. His fingers tangle in your hair, head falling back, muttering, “Fuck… feels too good…” If you edge him with your tongue, he shakes.

P = Pace

He’s adaptive.

Deep, deliberate, building tension until you can’t take it. Then he pounds you, hips slamming, hand fisted in your hair.

Slow and desperate, hips jerking up into your touch, trying so hard not to cum too fast while you ride him.

Q = Quickie

Depends. If he’s dominant? Fast and hard against the wall. His hand over your mouth, cock buried deep, fucking you until you collapse.

If you’re taking charge? He lets you pull his pants down, stroke him hard, ride him fast while he pants into your shoulder, just trying to hold on.

R = Risk

He’s not reckless, but the idea of risk gets him going. The lab, the council hall, the elevator—he’s fantasized about all of them. He’s especially into the control of letting you fuck him somewhere semi-public, his moans muffled against your palm.

S = Stamina

Jayce can go multiple rounds when he’s dominant—but when he’s subbing? One orgasm and he’s a panting mess, flushed and twitching, begging for more even if he’s too sensitive to take it. Either way? He recovers fast.

T = Toys

Oh yes. Especially when you’re on top. He lets you tie him up, gag him, edge him with a vibrator. But he also uses them on you— his fingers working a toy inside you as he watches with that sly smirk.

U = Unfair

Jayce teases beautifully.

He makes you beg. Stops right at the edge. Whispers, “Not yet.”

Or: The way he gasps when you touch him, the way his hips twitch—he knows exactly what he’s doing. And he loves when you lose it.

V = Volume

Jayce is loud. Groans, gritted curses, broken moans. When he’s topping, it’s growls and dirty words. When you’re riding him? Soft whimpers and pleading gasps, his voice breaking as he calls your name again and again.

W = Wild Card

He loves being overstimulated while restrained. You riding him—slow, then faster—while he begs you to stop, even though his cock stays rock hard. The way his abs flex, his thighs shake, his voice turns into breathless, fucked-out whimpers? Ruinous.

X = X-Ray

Jayce is thick. Not freakishly long, but wide—you feel him every time. His cock curves just enough to hit the right spots. When he’s inside, he stretches you full, and when you ride him? You can see the outline in your stomach.

Y = Yearning

Constant. His hands drift to your hips during dinner. His voice drops when you kiss his cheek. When he’s needy? He’ll lie back on the bed, hard under his clothes, asking, “Can I have you? Please?” When he wants to dominate? He pulls you into his lap and takes.

Z = Zzz

Jayce wraps around you like a furnace. Arms around your waist, soft kisses to your neck. If he subbed, he sleeps against your chest, breathing slow and peaceful. If he dommed? He holds you like you’re fragile. Either way—you wake up with him still inside you.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Alone Together

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst, smut, fingering, penetrative, shower sex, edging, ■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

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You sat at the corner of your parents' queen size bed, helping your mother fold her clothes for her upcoming trip.

The day before, your mother was filled with excitement when she entered the kitchen, a huge grin plastered on her face. "We won a free trip to New York!"

Turns out her company had held a lottery for the workers, two two-way tickets to New York City.

"I applied on a whim." Your mother shrugged. "Who would have thought I'd actually get it." Her hopeful gaze went to your dad. "We can visit my mother!"

Your father smiled back. "That's amazing, honey. It would ne good for the two of you to see each other."

The overall happiness of the room didn't infect you, who tensed up as soon as you heard your mother announcing that your parents were going away. You swallowed nervously. "When's the flight?"

Your mother checked the tickets. "October twentieth."

Your pulse spiked. So soon. "That's in two days..." Your shoulders lowered.

"Honey, will you be alright here?" Your father reached for your hand.

No. You wanted to say. But when you saw how eager your mother was at the prospect of visiting your grandmother - who she hasn't seen in a year - the word froze in your mouth. "Yes, I'll be fine. You two enjoy your trip."

So here you were, helping your mother carry her suitcase down the stairs. Your father was dressed in his casual flight outfit, fanny pack-clad, as he loaded the trunk of his five year old Toyota sedan on your driveway.

Mama, don't go. You itched to say. What if it's not safe?

You admonished yourself for the childish and selfish thought.

Kissing and hugging your parents goodbye. You can do this, you told yourself. You can stay home alone. You've done it all your life. Why not now?

But when the door closed and the silence took over, bringing with it unease.

You busied yourself with chores. You washed the parkette floor, vacuumed the carpets, and prepared dinner for yourself, all while the tv was blaring in the background, providing some much needed noise. You sent your parents texts asking for updates every hour. You were glad they messaged you that they landed safely, and we're on their way to your grandmother's.

Come evening time, you turned on all of the lights downstairs to drown out the darkness coming in from the windows. It didn't help. The noise blended in with the silence to create a sense of uncertainty, even within the familiar walls of your childhood home. Your breathing grew quick and shallower. You went to your parents' room, closed the door behind yourself, and locked it before taking a seat on the soft carpet floor against it. You tried to calm yourself, steadying your breath. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-"

The doorbell rang, making you gasp.

It was him. That man. The awful human being who tied you up, gagged you, and left you drugged and hallucinating your worst fears on the floor of your research lab, with no one able to hear your muffled screams.

Until... he showed up. Robin. Your guardian angel, who tore you from those visions. Who saved and protected you. "He'll come, he'll save me, he will. He will." You convinced yourself, oblivious the heavy footsteps making their way up the second floor.

"Y/n?" Damian’s deep voice muffled through the door you were currently leaning against, making your pulse spike with relief and something else. "Y/n, it's Damian."

The relief washed over you in a smooth wave. You let out a breath and scrambled up and opened the door. You felt extacy as seeing his tall frame so close. Concern etched on his sharp features as those all-knowing green eyes studied you under black hair. Before you could think better of it, you enveloped him into your arms. His warmth was a much welcome sensation against your cold, shivering limbs. Tears threatened to roll out the corners of your eyes as you held onto him like a lifeline.

"Hey, you're okay." His hand came up to cradle your head. It was an oddly comforting gesture from him. So were the reassuring words. You wondered if he'd ever consoled anyone else, consistently repeating, "Everything's okay." Like he was right now, with you.

His voice and touch grounded you in reality, and you managed to pull your breath down to a normal rhythm. He came. He came for you. You were lucky enough to have more than one guardian angel.

"P-please stay," you wispered, not caring how desperate you sounded.

"I'm not going anywhere." His words were a promise.

You let him lead you downstairs and pour you some water. The two of you find a seat in your small kitchen. He sat across from you on the creaky wooden chair as the tea kettle boiled. The entire time, you didn't let go of his hand, so large and safe in your smaller palm. "Would you like some dinner? I made soup."

"Sit. I'll get it." He got up to open the fridge, and you mourned the loss of his touch as you sat back against your chair.

After you and Damian ate the chicken soup you prepared, he got up to put away the plates, freezing mid-step.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Where's your dishwasher?"

"We don't have one." You explained. "Here, let me wash it."

"No, no, I got it." He brought the dishes to the sink, lowering them, then turning back to you. "I'll do it later."

You let out a soft giggle. "You don't have to."

He turned to you, deadpan expression on his face. "You don't think I can wash dishes?"

You shut your lips together, then gave him a shy nod. His tongue poked the side side of his cheek as he raised a brow at you. "Watch this,"

He turned around and got to work, demonstrating to you as he squirted an excessive amount of soap onto the sponge and lathered the dishes with it. Then, he rinsed and held them in his hands, unsure of the next steps. You giggled, taking the plates off his hands and setting them down on the drying rack. "If I used thos much soap each time I washed the dishes, we'd be out of money."

You turned to see Damian huff, and a guilt tugged at your nerves. "You did well, though." You hoped the words reassured him.

"Wanna laugh?" He pursed his lips.

You nodded.

"That was my first time washing a dish."

"Yeah, I assumed." You bit your lip.

His gaze traveled to the floor, and he murmered, "Shut up." Eliciting another string of laugher from you.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian stood at your doorstep, his hand reaching out for you as you talked yourself up to take it.

"I want you to come outside with me." He told you a minute ago. "Just to the end of the porch. Then we'll go back home."

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that told you not to bother.

With the door opened, you nervously searched around the quiet dark street outside your house. The only light came from the streetlights, and the sounds were rustling of leaves. Other than that, the evening was peaceful. Calm. You swallowed nervously, your hand coming to wrap around his.

"There we go," he reassured, stepping backward onto the porch, pulling you with him. Your breath seized as you jerked your hand back, not meaning to.

You met his gaze. He didn't look disappointed or even upset. In fact, he was simply standing there, holding his hand out to you like he was your boyfriend, picking you up for prom.

"Sorry," you blurted. "I didn't mean to–"

"I know. Let's try that again." He said quietly. "I'm right here."

You nodded. "You're right here."

"Exactly. Walk to me." He instructed gently. "I want to hold you."

Those words had you blushing as you nodded once more. "Okay, okay,"

You took a shakey step and had one foot out of the house. Your breath came fast, but you clenched your muscle, forcing yourself not to go back down. "Damian?" you called out to him.

"Right here, sweetheart." He answered. "You're doing very well."

"How much more?" Your voice shook as you asked.

"Just down those two steps." He spoke calmly. "I'm so proud of you. You're almost there."

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He was proud of you!

The thought had your heart speeding out of happiness, not fear this time, and you dared another step down.

You had sweated profusely and were shivering at the same time. Damian suggested a hot shower would help you calm down.

"Will you stay outside in my room? Please?" You stammered.

He kissed the top of your head and nodded.

After five difficult minutes of sitting on your bed, arms crossed, and leg bouncing in a state, he would describe anything but "calm." Damian got up and opened your shower door.

Damian made his way into the shower, the steam filling his senses as he found you, pouring soap into your hands. He discarded his shirt first. You noticed him, your eyes roaming down his bare upper half. Ridges of muscle never seemed to end, and you blushed again at the thoughts he inspired in you. You didn't say anything, so he lowered his jeans and briefs, slowly stepping into the hot stream with you. He placed a gentle hand on your hip, turning you to face the wall away from him. Pouring some soap into his hands, he began lathering your skin, starting with your back, then making his way around to your chest. Your breath hitched when his hands took your breasts, soap covered thumbs gently gliding over your hardening nipples, making you shudder.

He spent a couple minutes teasing you there. Fingers flicking, pinching, and tickling your nipples. Your back arching against him, hands coming up to press your hands against the wall. "Ah, ah,"

At last, his palm slid down from your breast to cup your core. The sensation had you rolling your head back as you released a breathy moan. "Damian, please, please,"

He breathed heavily against your ear. "What?"

"Please..." You keen searching for the correct words. "... distract me? Make me forget..."

Seeing you like this - so pliable, so desperate - completely conflicted with his original plan coming here. He showed up with a series of excersize in mind to reintroduce you to the idea of safety - of a normal life again, free of fear and paranoia. But of course, he'd gotten carried away the moment he saw you.

Maybe... that's what you - both of you - needed at this moment. He'd been just as eager to get his hands on you as you were at the prospect of being held by him. You wanted a distraction? No problem.

Slowly, his fingers slid down to your core and spread your folds, baring you open, and lining himself up against you before at last, thrusting into you. You welcomed the wonderful stretch with an enthusiastic embrace - your hand coming to hold the nape of his neck behind you. "Mhnn, yes, yes,"

Then, just as you were reaching your climax, all of a sudden, he stopped moving his hand, and his hardness stopped from driving back into you.

You whined at the hugh you were just cut off from. "Damian?" You murmered weakly. "Why'd you stop?"

"You said you wanted a distraction." His response came as if it was obvious. "I plan on making it count."

You shuddered as his breath carresed your shoulder, making your hair rise even in the steaming water. "Oh, please," you moaned. "Please, Dami -"

"Fuck," he groaned at the nickname. His dark arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace, as he moaned, low and dangerous in your ear. He began slowly pushing back into you. "Fuck, I've missed you,"

"Me too." You admitted. "Please, don't stop."

He huffed darkly against your ear. "Say you missed me again, perfect girl. Say it."

"I've missed you."

"Call me 'Dami' again." His fingers were back on your clit and his thrusts picked up again. "Tell me you need me."

"Hnnh, yes, I need you, Dami," you complied, your voices breaking into gasps matching the rhythm of his hips. "So much!"

"Say you'll never leave me again,"

"..."

"... y/n..." His tone was a warning.

"But..." Your voice caught in your throat. You were also caught between unbearable pleasure and your own inner conflict. Your voice broke when you argued, "But that's not fair."

His hand rose to wrap around your throat, though he didnt apply any pressure. "What's not fair?"

"Y- youre the one who didn't want a relationship with me." You stammered.

He pressed his thumb on a vein on your neck, just under your jaw that made your vision go white for a moment. Your head felt light, your thoughts swam and the continued stimulation from his fingers on your clit became much more sensitive as you bucked your hips against him.

"Well, now I do." He declared.

"Well... thats..." You felt your anger rise along with the heartbeat in your chest. It was a feat, balancing lust, anger, and confusion all at once, but you managed somehow. You were very proud of that accomplishment. You weren't proud of the words you used to carry your point across though. "That's dumb, Damian! You're dumb."

Yes. That'll show him, you thought. Especially when all that came from him was silence, shortly followed by a snort of laughter in your ear. His body shook against you. His fingers pausing their ministration on your clit, depriving you of yet. Another. Orgasm. The climax subsided as you clenched around him uselessly. The action had you grumbling in frustration. Here he was, laughing at you while he had you at his mercy. So... cruel!

And you... you little weakling, let him. Let him exercise power of you. Because damn it, it felt good. It's what you needed. All this time without him was wrong. God, he knew exactly how to play you.

So much for feminism. You clutched your hands into fists against the shower wall as a thought occurred. "The water bill is gonna be insane," you complained.

His laughter died down. "If you're thinking about the water bill while we're having sex -"

"Not everyone's rich!" You snapped at him over your shoulder.

Damian could barely contain himself. You were so fucking cute when you were angry. Looking up at him with those glassy eyes that tried too hard to narrow at him. Your pink lips were pouting, too. Inviting all kinds of bad intentions. He loved seeing your resolve crumble.

"Yeah," He gripped your thigh, his tone taunting. "Isn't it great?" He ground out. "You plebs work twenty-four-seven and get nothing, and I get whatever I want."

His fingers returned to your clit, now making rough little circles in excelerating speed. "Speaking of which..."

You weren't propared for the intense wave of pleasure. Your hands didn't know what to hold onto.

"I wanna see you come for me." He wispered against your ear.

"Ask nicely then!" You managed, determined not to indulge him until you got one win. Which was ironic, considering you were edged for the last thirty minutes, and you really, really could use an orgasm.

He let out a chuckle before biting your shoulder. "I wanna see you come for me. Now." The last words were spoken with fake sweetness as he began to thrust into you again. Roughly.

You tried to respond, but words didn't come to you. He'd done what you asked of him - made you forget. The only thing on your mind was his name: "Damian, Damian," which you panted over and over again.

"Gonna sleep so well tonight, baby." He cooed. "Gonna fuck you till you pass out."

You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar warm feeling start in your core again. "Uh huh, yeah, yeah-"

The long anticipated orgasm had finally reached. You moaned and writhed through it for minutes, as Damian panted and moaned against you, letting the pleasure connect you as a whole.

You fought and lost to your exhation. Slumping against his hard body. You felt yourself be washed with gentle and careful hands, then wrapped in a towel and carried to your twin bed. You felt a silk material brushing against your skin, and guessed Damian must have found the nighty you left for yourself to wear after your shower.

As you were slipping in and out of awareness, your hand rose to hold him, weakly pulling him to you.

Damian dried himself and lay down behind you, wrapping you in his warm arms and turning you towards him. You were petite and fragile in his arms, so innocent and sweet. His brilliant, perfect girl.

As he watched your chest rise and fall with each calm breath you took in your sleep, Damian vowed three things: 1. He wouldn't let anyone else have a view of you like this. 2. He would bring you back to doing what you loved. And 3. He would never let anyone compromise your safety again.

[kodamaghost00]

𝑽𝒊𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑨𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧ *✧･ﾟ: * *✧

A = Affection. How does he show affection towards his significant other?

He is clever with his words, so he will affirm you every day. Even if it’s something simple like pointing out a change in your appearance.

B = Best Friends. How did he act before you two started dating?

He was oblivious to your feelings. Before you two started dating he just thought you two were great friends, or better said he didn’t date before you so he wasn’t aware of his feelings yet.

C = Cuddles. Does he like cuddling?

When he’s not sleeping at the lab then he loves to cuddle with you. He likes to sleep on your chest especially. Listening to your heartbeat makes him sleepy.

D = Domestic. Does he want to settle down? Possibly starting a family one day?

He would love to settle down with you. Just the thought of having a family with you one day makes him very happy. He doesn’t want to have biological children though, due to his health condition that can be passed down.

E = Ending. How would he react if you two broke up? What would be his reaction be?

No matter your ups and downs he would always try to make it work again. But if you two really need to break up he’s very respectful of your boundaries. He would make it as comfortable as possible so you could stay friends afterwards.

F = Fiancé. How fast does he want to marry? Does he want to marry at all?

Viktor would like to marry you one day, but he’s way too focused on his studies to do it right now. He likes to take his time with proposing to you.

G = Gentle. How gentle is he, both physically and emotionally?

He is very gentle in both physical and emotional, but he will harshly point out when you make mistakes. Especially when they will affect you negatively.

H = Hugs. Does he like hugs? How often does he do it? What are his hugs like?

His hugs are deep and long. He’s not really a PDA guy but in private he loves a good hug. When he had a long day at the lab again it gives him strength to proceed.

| = I love you. How fast does he say the L-word?

As stated earlier he wouldn’t even realize that he has a crush on you. It takes courage to admit it as well. Give him the time he needs he’ll open up eventually.

J = Jealousy. How jealous can he be? What does he do when he’s jealous?

He wouldn’t admit it to you at first. Giving you dirty glances as soon as he notices the looks of others on you. He will do it quietly and quickly till you stop it yourself.

K = Kisses. What are his kisses like? Where does he like to kiss you? Where dies he like to be kissed?

His kisses are soft and gentle. He loves to kiss your hands and forehead! When he knows you have insecurities he makes sure to give them extra attention. He on the other hand loves it when you kiss his face and neck.

L= Little ones. How is he around children?

Due to his own childhood he is very careful of children. They are easily influenced by their surroundings so he tries to show his best self to them.

M = Morning. How are mornings spent with him?

He would stay up so late that he oversleeps in the morning. You have to wake him up gently. He goes to work straight away after eating breakfast with you.

N = Night. How are nights spent with him?

He comes to bed often when you’re already asleep. He comes to bed very exhausted and snuggles up to you listening to your steady breathing.

O = Open. When would he start revealing things about himself? Does he say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

He wouldn’t reveal too much all at once. It is foolish to reveal unnecessary information to strangers after all. After you work with him longer he’ll reveal more details about his past, present and future!

P = Patience. How easily angered is he?

He’s a very calm individual and won’t get mad over small things. It’s more like frustration than anger. He wouldn’t let it out in you but rather try to talk things out.

Q = Quizzes. How much would he remember about you? Does he remember every little detail you mention in passing, or does he kind of forget everything?

He does remember important stuff and occasionally gives you your favorite things, but you have to remind him on special occasions.

R = Remember. What is his favorite moment in your relationship?

Most likely when you two met each other for the first time. It was refreshing to meet a new interesting person working with him. Who knew that you two could fall for each other?

S = Security. How protective is he? How would he protect you? How would he like to be protected?

He won’t show it but he is very protective. Especially in the lab with huh toxic chemicals and the hexcore. He knows what it does with people.

T = Try. How much effort would he put into dates,anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

He would make sure to do everything in his power to make you feel special! He doesn’t take you out on little dates often but when he does they’re always so well prepared!

U = Ugly. What would be some bad habits of his?

He works till late in the night and even mornings. His sleep schedule is fucked and his eye bags are getting darker by the second.

V = Vanity. How concerned is he with his looks?

He cares about it a fair amount. His hair is always neat and all his shirts are ironed.

W = Whole. Would he feel incomplete without you?

Depends actually in what stage of relationship you guys are. If it’s only a few weeks in he would miss you as a friend. But if you two are already together for 4+ months then he’d feel lonely and incomplete.

X = Xtra. A random headcanon for him.

He likes it when you compliment his insecurities. It makes him hate them less.

Y = Yuck. What are some things he wouldn't like,either in general or in a partner?

He wouldn’t like it if his partner leaves their plates out. Like food plates with leftovers.

Z = Zzz. What is a sleep habits of his?

He has insomnia to some extent. He wakes up often in the night with slight panic.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧ *✧･ﾟ: * *✧

I love Viktor so much. Best Arcane/LOL character ever. Should I do a NSFW version? Let me know what you think! Have a great Day/Night.

- Your Ghost �� つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | eleven.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, san x oc talk a bit, talking also leads to other things 🤭, a quickie in san’s office, riding him on the chair hehehe, covering his mouth cause he gets a lil loud, flashback scene is just ppl talkin about this whole thing and switching up 😭, san x iseul x yunho moment, the start of namjoon’s stress chronicles pt. 2, some overthinking and pondering decisions

san: goodmorning my love. i hope you slept well. i'm sorry to upset you last night, and i'm sorry i put you in that position. i wasn't thinking and acted impulsively. let me know if i can get a few mins with you at some point - i still wanna talk to you. i miss you, baby. have a good day today, okay?

You wake up a little later than expected, and it has you rushing out the door before you can even respond to San's text. You do feel bad for not responding right away but truthfully, you just needed to get your mind together and be in your own space to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

You were starting to get scared and you weren't sure where this would lead you and San. You knew what you were getting into, but the last thing you wanted was for San to get in trouble— especially him, not you.

"Hey ma." You answer the call on your way to class, tugging your bag strap up on your shoulder.

"Hi lovey." She says cheerfully even though she's coming off of a shift.

"Did you just get off of work?" She sighs as she slams her car door and hops in, the call being picked up on the bluetooth.

"Yeah, we're a bit short-staffed so I picked up another shift. I came in around 7pm last night." You nod.

"Well, try to take it easy."

"I will. Are you on your way to class? How's it all going?"

"Um." You pause. "It's alright. But, yeah. I'm on my way over."

"Uh oh." She teases. "Wanna come home this weekend so you can tell me all about it while we get our nails done?"

"Actually, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Okay, babe." She chuckles. "You sure you're okay?" You nod even though you feel your heart drop, tears threatening to spill this early in the morning.

"Yeah, I am. I just have lots of stuff to update you on."

"Okay. Can't wait. Have a good day, hun. Make sure you take your breaks properly, eat and hydrate well."

"I will, mom. I love you."

"Love you too!" The call ends and you suddenly feel alone although the campus has moving parts, bodies floating around to move from point A to point B. You tuck your phone into your bag, fully deciding you'll get to San in between classes today. You do plan to stop by the lab to wean your mice really quickly at some point; maybe you'll deal with San then.

Which is crazy to think about cause that's exactly how things unfold.

Your first class of the day drags on, the lecture today being packed with a ton of overwhelming information. You've already got a few assignments for this class alone, causing you to huff out a heavy sigh when you write it all down in your planner and try to organize your to-do list. When class finally wraps up, you take your time packing up before heading to lab to work on the mice. You grab a parfait to go, quietly eating away as you make your way to the basement. The very back door to the west wing basement is the closest to the café you grabbed the parfait from, so you easily make your way over and toss your empty cup into the trash just as you tackle the steps and head downstairs to the door. When you pull out your badge and get ready to tap it against the reader, the door swings open and causes you to jump aside to prevent yourself from getting hit.

"Oh, I'm sorry—" San stops in his steps. "Y/N?"

"San." You breathe out, clutching your bag tighter. You weren't expecting to run into him now, but you suppose the universe had other plans for you.

"Hey." He fully steps outside and lets the door shut close. You can't help but automatically glance at him from head to toe; he's wearing denim on denim, and you realize he's the only person who could truly pull off the look. He's got on a denim button-up and jeans, chucks. Sleeves are rolled up halfway. He digs his hands into his pockets, soft black hair framing his face. You can smell his cologne from where you stand.

You're not standing very far from him when you should be creating more distance.

"Hi."

"Going into lab?"

"For a second, yeah. I gotta wean my mice before my PI gets mad at me." You look up at him and he chuckles a bit, biting onto his lip.

"For the record, I could never be mad at you." You slightly scoff and playfully roll your eyes. 

"Sure, Professor Choi." You pause. "I'm sorry I haven't responded to your text. I was meaning to come see you later, but I guess now is a good time, too?" 

"Uh, yeah. I gotta meet Jongho and Namjoon to plan out this proposal for the space in the new building." You nod. "But, it's not for a bit. Was just gonna grab some food before heading over."

"Goodluck."

"Thanks, love." He clears his throat. "Wanna give me a quick run down of what happened yesterday? With Yunho and Iseul?"

"Don't let me get in the way of you getting food."

"You're not. I can always grab some after."

"Are you sure?" He nods.

"You're more important." He lets out a breath. "So, what happened?"

"Yunho said he thought he saw me at the conference, that's all. I know he was gonna try to get it out of me, but students started walking into class."

"I didn't even know he was there."

"Well, I clearly didn't either. He said he stopped by last minute cause he was in the area." San sighs. "Iseul knew about it, too. I saw the way she looked at me when I walked out." You look up at him with innocent eyes, and it makes him weak. "San, we need to be more careful and this isn't helping."

"Well, that's why I wanted you to come over so we could talk about this in private. Why haven't you texted me back, angel? I know there's a reason. Are you still angry with me?" He asks so gently and so sweetly it makes your knees buckle. But at this very moment, Iseul is passing by the stairway, on her way back to the office after a meeting in the west wing of the Harvey Center. She doesn't typically pass this way but today, the conference room was closer to the back end, and she wanted to stop by the nearby café to grab another cup of coffee— excited to try the seasonal flavors on the menu that just arrived.

As she passes the stairway that leads towards the very back west wing basement door, she hears muffled talking echoing from below and can't necessarily help herself.

"I just.. don't know right now, San. It feels like everything is crumbling and I don't know how to feel. Jiung knows, and he thinks you forced me into this for the lab—"

"What? You told him that wasn't true, right?" His tone rises slightly, but it's enough for you to remind him to keep it down. It's also enough for Iseul to just slightly peek over the edge to confirm who is speaking near the back end basement doors;

And of course it's you and San.

No one ever passes through this way, and of course San would be taking that opportunity.

"Obviously." You sigh. "I'm just saying, people are onto us. The happy hour thing was probably the cherry on top."

"I got angry and I acted on impulse, I'm sorry." He reaches for your hand and as much as you wanna hold onto it tightly, you can't. You just let him take it in his, his lips lightly grazing the surface of your hand. "Can we take this to my office?"

"I thought you were on your way out."

"And I told you I've got a few minutes to spare. Please?" He pleads and you simply nod, removing your hand from his hold just as he badges in and leads the way to his office. Iseul lets out a breath as she continues on her way, texting her husband the exact scene that just unfolded in front of her.

iseul: i just saw san and y/n talking by the basement doors. he was holding her hand and kissing it.

yunho: so what now?

iseul: i told you i'm gonna try to catch san later. if he doesn't wanna admit to it then i'm going to namjoon.

yunho: iseul.

iseul: yunho, no. i can see the look you're giving me already. they're being way too obvious on campus now, and he better be grateful that i'm just trying to look out for him.

yunho: okay.

That's all Yunho replies with because what else can he say? He knows Iseul is stubborn, and he knows she won't change her mind. He agrees that it's wrong but he's not sure if they're overstepping.

Maybe Iseul really was looking out for him. He'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt because she's right.

This is wrong.

He's convinced this is all wrong because of her.

When you get to the basement, it's as empty as can be and you couldn't even be more relieved while trailing behind San. He looks down at his watch again, fiddling with the door lock and handle before he swings it open.

"Are you sure you even have enough time to spare?" You ask as he locks the door and makes his way over to you.

"Swear."

"We should make this quick before people come back to the basement."

"You know people are always in and out of here."

"Still."

"Why are you upset, love? Talk to me."

"I just don't know what to do. Your ex seems to be onto us the most, and they probably saw the whole thing go down yesterday. You were like.. angry-angry, San, and it was obvious—" You don't even realize you're going on and on about the same thing until San cups your cheeks, softly shushing you; trying to keep the peace by easing you.

"Baby." He says softly, his eyes looking into yours. "Baby, don't worry about this right now. I'm sure it will all blow over—"

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then, I'll face it when the time comes but—"

"San."

"We'll figure it out." He reassures again, even though truthfully and honestly, he's not sure what that means. He's not sure what he'll do if it actually unfolds out of hand, he's not sure what he'll tell you if things do go wrong. He's not sure how he'll be able to salvage everything even if he wants to more than anything in this world 

He just doesn't work on empty promises like that.

"I'll never let anything happen to you. I'll take care of this." He adds.

"I don't want anything to happen to you, though." He sighs and shakes his head.

"Nothing will. Just— just trust me like you've already been doing, okay?"

"Okay." You respond softly, hands resting on his wrists as he continues to cup your cheeks— thumb caressing the surface while his eyes roam over your features.

"I'm sorry for yesterday and I'm sorry you've been upset."

"It's alright."

"I missed you."

"I'm sorry, Sannie. I just needed a moment."

"You don't have to apologize, sweetheart." He kisses the tip of your nose before chuckling. "Although, I'll still beat his ass for trying to put his hands on you the way he did."

"He was such a dumbass." You roll your eyes. "I am grateful for you being there in time, though."

"Yeah, well. Couldn't really do much, but I'm glad you ended up okay." He's still looking at you, his thumb now lightly tracing your bottom lip. He looks deep into your eyes and he can't help but feel like mush; knees getting weak, heart melting at the way he looks at you. He prays to God nothing happens with all this going on because he's afraid to lose you.

He's afraid he can't lose you.

When he looks at you, he feels a sense of calmness. He sees the affection and adoration swirling in those orbs of yours. Your entire being radiating warmth and love. He'd hate for Iseul and Yunho to take away the one thing that has finally kept him grounded. But, he wouldn't put it past them and that's what scares him the most.

They hadn't stopped to think about their actions before. And for someone like San, who loves so hard and trusts wholeheartedly, he just didn't think the love of his life and his bestfriend would ever do that to him.

This is how everything has unfolded and he'd hate for them to be the reason behind all of this, too.

"Baby." He calls for you, and you don't respond verbally. The way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you, caressing you and keeping you close, is enough for you to dip forward and meet him in a sweet kiss. You hear him exhale as he cups your cheeks and takes the kiss, deepening it as you stand in the middle of his office. Your hands grip at his sides as your tongue fights for dominance with his, the kiss easily turning into a sloppy, wet mess. "Fuck, baby." He sighs. "Need you."

"Here?" He nods. He rushes over to his chair, bringing you onto his lap. His eyes are full of desire, lust— pleading for you to give him all of you. "Sannie."

"We'll make it quick." He smirks, hands coming up your thighs to hike up your maxi skirt just enough; thumb immediately finding your clothed core. "No one's around. Just us." You shut your eyes in pleasure, already aching, craving, for him bad. "You do know how to keep quiet, right?" He teases, watching as you continue to react to the way he's touching you.

"Mm— shouldn't I be asking you?" You tease back, fiddling with his belt and undoing his jeans to release his heavy, hard cock. 

"Brat." He chuckles. "Ride me." 

"So demanding." You playfully roll your eyes the moment you position his cock at your entrance, shutting them close when you ease down his length. He lets out a soft, breathless groan, head cocked back against the chair as he tries to adjust to the feeling. "Fuck, San."

"Yeah, baby. It's all yours." He whispers, looking at you through hooded lids. You pick up your pace, working your hips back and forth; dragging your walls against his member. You let out a quiet moan against his lips, San whispering a string of cuss words as you roll your hips—

Driving him to insanity.

"Missed you so much. My perfect girl." He mutters. He can't even help himself when he feels you tighten around him, letting out a moan that might be a little too loud for your liking. 

"Sannie." You whine a bit, covering his mouth with your hand as you continue to push and push towards the edge, clit rubbing against him so deliciously you feel like you'll come undone sooner than later. You watch as San's face contorts in pleasure— pretty brows knitting together, tightly as his eyes shut close. He's murmuring small moans against the palm of your hand, whining and begging for you to cum first because you always come first.

And it doesn't take long before you do.

Your movements become sloppy while San continues to grip your ass in an attempt to help guide you; his cock filling you up perfectly as you bounce up and down before resorting back to rolling your hips against him. It takes two, three, four turns before you press your forehead against San's and unravel in his hold. 

"Ohhhh—fuck—gonna cum—" You gasp just as San fucks upward into you once, twice— releasing his load into you and filling you up with every last bit. He lets out choked moans against your hand, panting and heavily breathing when you feel like it's safe to finally remove it.

"Good god, sweetheart." He breathes. "I'll never get tired of this." You giggle, kissing him sweetly on the lips before slowly removing yourself from his length. You both let out small breaths, San keeping you near so he can wipe you down with a napkin before tending to himself. 

"Hopefully no one's in the basement still." You fix your skirt and get yourself together.

"Uh, not like you had anything to worry about. You seemed to have that under control the entire time." You laugh.

"Taking precautionary measures since we need to."

"That was kinda fun, though." San smirks. "Maybe we should do that more often." He stands to adjust his jeans and fixes his belt.

"Did our little fight just go over your head?" You joke and he sighs.

"Fine." He playfully rolls his eyes. "We'll just keep it to the bedroom."

"You're so annoying." You smile. "You should get to your meeting before you end up being late."

"I will, boss lady." He puckers his lips. "Just one more." You shake your head and meet him for another kiss.

"Bye Professor Choi." 

"Bye baby." He smiles, subtly biting onto his bottom lip as he watches you sway your hips and walk out. As soon as the door shuts, he feels empty. He misses you already and he can't wait to spend time with you again.

"Oh shit—Sunwoo!" You almost shriek just as you come out of San's office. You're afraid he might've heard something, or that he might even sense it, see it on you, with the way he cocks a brow up and tilts his head to the side. "You scared me." He laughs, though it's obvious he's kinda confused as to why you're so startled by his presence.

"You okay?" 

"Mhm." You hum.

"Meeting with Professor Choi?" He gives you a look again and you feel like your ass is on fire. Sunwoo has probably gotten wind of the whole thing and now he's trying to read you.

"Just a quick last minute check-in."

"Oh, that's nice he let you pop in. Everything all good with your progress and stuff? Think you'll stay so you can continue being my right hand?" You laugh and shrug. 

"Maybe. We'll see. But yeah, all is well!" You look at your phone. "Anyway, gonna run off to wean the mice before class." He nods, watching as you hurriedly drop your things off at your desk and scurry along without looking back.

—FLASHBACK

"So, did you hear about Professor Choi getting hella angry over some postdoc at the happy hour event? I guess he was getting handsy with Y/N and was being a total dick."

"Okay? So, he deserved it."

"Yeah, but people there said it was weird."

"How is sticking up for someone weird?"

"No like, guys. He was angry. Like the type to get angry over your girlfriend, angry."

"What are you insinuating?" Belle cocks a brow up.

"I'm so surprised you guys haven't heard about it. It's like the talk on campus right now. People think Professor Choi and Y/N are a thing. Professor Lee and Professor Jeong are also apparently fueling hella shit behind it."

"That's ridiculous, Y/N would never. That'd never happen." Belle tries to laugh it off until she sees Sunwoo sitting quietly in his chair. "Right?" Sunwoo looks at her and shrugs. "Sunwoo."

"Dude, I don't know. I've just seen Y/N go into his office a few times and I thought they were meeting about projects. But, now that I think about it.."

"Are you serious?" Belle furrows her brows. She's slightly annoyed that you'd actually take it this far, and she's not sure how she feels about it if it were true. "Is she trying to secure her spot in lab that bad? She wanted him to like her so bad she had to sleep with him?" Sunwoo knits his forehead at her.

"Yo, hold on. You don't even know if it's true. Even if it is, I'm sure there's a story behind it and not just that. Y/N wouldn't do that."

"We didn't expect her to be wrapped up in rumors like this, too." Belle scoffs. "Wow. If their so-called relationship ends up being true, bet it was because Y/N threw herself on him."

"That's fucked up. She's your friend, Belle."

"Not really, we just knew each other because of school and now we work together."

"Belle."

"What? You really can't tell me you don't think that? You're lying."

"No?! Belle, what?" Sunwoo's tone grows. "I'm saying they're two grown ass adults who are capable of making their own decisions. I'm not dismissing it or saying it's right, but I'm saying there could be more to it than that. Why are you assuming that so quickly?"

"Whatever, Sunwoo. It's gross, regardless. Especially for her as his rotation student." She rolls her eyes. "God, can't wait for it to be over so I don't have to deal with her." Sunwoo starts packing his things and shaking his head.

"That's crazy." Sunwoo chuckles a bit. "She was your friend before anything, bro. I'd expect you to at least have her back." He scoffs a bit. "I gotta go, I got shit to tend to with Y/N. Cause you know, I don't just switch up on people without having my facts straight." He almost mocks Belle's attitude as he throws the peace sign up to his other friend and starts walking off.

—END

After you tend to the mice, San gathers himself and heads out of the basement to head to the bathroom and freshen up before grabbing a quick snack on his way to Namjoon's office. On his way out, he didn't see anyone in the basement; Sunwoo must have gone to hide in one of the rooms to do some work. He's able to whisk himself away without any issues, prancing into Namjoon's office in a better mood.

Jongho definitely picks up on it, but doesn't comment on it. So doesn't Namjoon, but he needed to make use of his time wisely since he's got a busy ass schedule today.

They have a good conversation and are able to draft out some very good points about letting Jongho and San take some real estate in the new building. Namjoon is always good with words and although he's taking quick notes on his laptop, he's making a mental note on how they should present this to the dean. He has a good feeling about it, and he thinks it's perfect timing because the dean has been wondering about other ways to foster good collaboration between schools and departments and how to make their programs a little more unique and prestigious compared to others.

San is coming out of his day way better than yesterday, way better than he expected this morning.

Too bad it's all about to go out the window again.

When San heads back to his office, he powers through his check-in meetings with a select few postdocs and grad students— discussing different avenues they could take with their projects and what their goals should be by the end of the quarter. Afterwards, he finishes the remaining items on his to-do list before sending out his last emails of the day and packing up.

you: can i come over tonight?

san: course you can, baby. you don't have to ask. lol

you: yes, i do. lol. okay, see you later? i have office hours then i'll wrap it up for the day.

san: sounds good, beautiful. i'll have dinner ready for us, k? just come over as soon as you can.

you: ☺️

He smiles to himself as he slings the bag strap over his shoulder, excited to tell you about how the meeting went today and how optimistic he's feeling about everything despite the chaos that has ensued.

Maybe things will be okay after all.

Right?

"San. Can we talk?" Iseul catches him as he steps out onto the first floor of the Harvey Center from the elevator. He furrows his brows at her, unsure what in the hell she could possibly wanna talk to him about right now.

Well, scratch that— he knows, but he's also not sure why she's the one doing the talking on this. It's kinda ironic coming from her. But, San isn't gonna be rude nor is he gonna be a dick to her, especially on campus grounds. 

So, he lets out a sigh and shrugs.

"Sure." He plainly says, leading the way to one of the empty conference rooms down the hall. He sets his bag down on a chair before crossing his arms to his chest, distancing himself from Iseul on the other end of the room. "What's up?"

"You're seeing her, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Is all he can defend himself with because he's truly appalled she's doing the talking on this when it shouldn't be any of her business—

"That's crazy. All this time and effort to keep her around and you couldn't even do that for me." San's brows knit together so tightly— he's not sure what the fuck he's hearing right now.

"We're bringing this up because why exactly? Even if we hadn't worked out, you still found your way with Yunho." She rolls her eyes.

"You're being so stupid, San. How are you so comfortable dating your student? You could lose everything if anyone found out."

"I don't see why this is any of your business."

"Because if you aren't gonna get your shit together, I have no choice but to go to Namjoon—"

"You can't actually be serious—"

"Ask yourself that! You're so hung up over her that you're willing to give up everything for your little relationship." She pauses. "She's young, she's got the doe-eyed look going on. Seems sweet, but she probably doesn't even actually care about you. Get real, San. Wake the hell up!"

"Iseul, you're treading on very thin ice." He warns. "You still haven't told me what any of this has to do with you." He steps forward.

"It has nothing to do with me. It has to do with the fact that I'm trying to do the right thing. You know this is wrong." San scoffs and pathetically chuckles, hands dug deep into his pants.

"Does it make you happy, Iseul?" San almost corners her. "Does it make you that fucking happy to keep destroying everything for me?"

"No one destroyed anything for you, you continuously do that for yourself!"

"You're the only person who has ever painted me as a failure and disappointment. You don't get to do that now, you don't get to have a say in any of this!"

"She's a fucking student, San. What's wrong with—"

"And he was my bestfriend!" San finds himself seeing red as his tone grows. All of the happy, good luck shit he was feeling today went out the window in one swift motion. He should've known Iseul would've taken this road. He should've known she would've done this.

For some reason, Iseul continues to be the reason why he can't be happy.

"Hey." Yunho walks into the conference room. "You two are gonna need to keep it down." San can't help but roll his eyes because of course.

Of fucking course.

"Great to see you've been invited to this unnecessary discussion." San looks at the both of them.

"Unnecessary?!—" Iseul fires back.

"Iseul." Yunho calls for her sternly.

"Whatever, you know what? I tried. You do whatever you want, San. Risk all your shit for some student who won't give a damn once it's all been taken away. All she wants from you is your resources and to move up, but I guess that's what you wanted—"

"You know nothing about her!" San growls back. "You know absolutely nothing about her." He repeats.

"Iseul." Yunho calls for her again. This time, there's a lace of anger because this was not what he wanted out of this. He warned Iseul about getting into San's business and she wouldn't listen— now they were all here, arguing over shit when there's already so much bad blood and tension between the three of them. "Can you please just wait outside?" She huffs and clicks her teeth, grabbing her things before storming out.

"Yunho, honestly. Save it. We don't have to do this."

"San, she's right. You could get into a lot of trouble if people start putting the pieces of the puzzle together. People are already onto you after the happy hour event, and I can't exactly say you two have been the most discreet."

"What are you even talking about?" San asks, exasperated and completely over the conversation.

"You two by the basement doors?"

"Oh, so you guys are just spying on us?" San cocks a brow up. "Really makes it better."

"It could have been anyone."

"Could it have been? Exactly how long were you guys watching us?" Yunho sighs.

"I'm only looking out for you—"

"And what makes you think I want you looking out for me, Yunho?" San's tone grows. "Hm? Cause last time you ended up looking out for me, I found you tangled up with my wife." Yunho's jaw ticks, but he doesn't say anything else. Because what can he say?

"You know this will fuck up everything for you." Is all Yunho responds with. "Everything."

"So be it. Sorry, but I literally have no reason to listen to you. Or her." San pauses, his jaw clenching as he swallows thickly. Borderline aching from how hard he's been clenching. "I hope that one day the both of you will finally learn how to mind your own business. Stop coming into mine. We're not friends, we're not acquaintances, we're nothing. We haven't been anything for a very long time and I'd appreciate it if we kept it that way." San grabs his things and rushes out the door, the force almost causing the door to hit the wall on his way out.

"San?" Namjoon comes from around the corner as he watches San walk out of the conference room, loosening his tie as he tries to gather himself. To be honest, he had been standing there for a good minute trying to make sense of the arguing and loud talking going on within the conference room. It didn't take him long to realize who was inside and what exactly was being discussed— especially when Iseul storms out, mumbling a few cuss words and San slander to herself. Luckily, not too many people were around, and if they were, they didn't try to focus much of their attention on their whereabouts. Namjoon is lost because he doesn't have any actual concrete facts to have a say in this. Maybe the happy hour event. San’s little antics.

He does need to get to the bottom of it, though.

Before it all goes south and it comes raining down on San, on him.

"Not right now, Joon. I'm sorry. I gotta get home." Namjoon doesn't say anything else as he watches San hurry off, needing to take a break from this place and get some fresh air ASAP.

"The hell is going on?" Namjoon mumbles to himself before nodding to a few oncoming students when he slowly walks back to his office and pulls out his phone to send a few texts.

If not today, he sure as hell is getting to the bottom of all of this tomorrow.

San hasn't felt this angry in so, so long, and quite frankly, it scares him. He's afraid of reverting back to his old self, his old way of coping. He's afraid of taking the wrong step forward that'll undo all the progress and work he's done on himself.

But truthfully, he fucking hates this.

He fucking hates this because at this point, he feels like it'll only bring more anger. Sadness. Hurt,

He hates that Yunho and Iseul are getting under his skin this way, he hates the predicament you're both in, he hates that Namjoon was there. He hates that he knows this is wrong but he absolutely refuses to let you go—

Even though, he's starting to feel like he needs to rethink those choices.

Mainly because he doesn't want anything to happen to you, mainly because he wants you to succeed and be happy. Mainly because he wants to protect you and keep pushing you forward; even if that means he has to support from afar.

He fucking hates this.

San drives with one hand on the wheel, finger brushing against his bottom lip as all the thoughts run at a thousand miles per hour in his head. He knows it's wishful thinking to assume it'll all blow over and be yesterday's news that didn't really mean much. He feels like it's far from that, and he knows Namjoon is eventually going to talk to him about everything.

He wishes he can hold on for a little longer, push it out a bit more.

Despite his feelings and how shot his mood is, San still manages to stop by for some aburasoba— remembering how you've mentioned time and time again that you had been craving it. He makes a pitstop at a random flower shop nearby, grabbing a small bouquet of baby pink roses. He gives the florist a small smile when she asks him if it's for a special someone, his dimples poking out; heart fluttering, butterflies swarming his tummy when he thinks about you.

And only you.

He wishes he could give you the world without having to hide it. There are so, so many things he wishes he could do or say that don't involve him acting behind doors or away from people.

This shit truly is hard.

When he finally pulls into his garage and parks, he sits in the seat for a little and huffs out a heavy sigh. He grabs his things and sets the food and bouquet down on the island counter before heading upstairs to shower. He gets comfortable in sweats and a matching crewneck, heading back down to the kitchen to get everything set up and ready for your arrival. You let him know you'll be over in the next few minutes, so he lights up a candle and gets the TV going— leaving it on the home page so that you can freely choose what you're in the mood for.

"Hi!" You greet in a sing-song tone as you let yourself in and walk into the kitchen. San is washing some dishes, which gives you the opportunity to hug him from behind and place a chaste kiss to the back of his neck. He chuckles, sinking into your hold before you pull away. "Aburasoba?" You gasp. "And pink roses?" You turn again just as he wipes his hands down and faces you. "Thank you, Sannie." Your bottom lip pokes out in a small pout.

"Of course, baby." He playfully runs a finger down your bottom lip and smiles. "How was the rest of your day? Sounded like you ran into Sunwoo after you left?" 

"Oh my god, yeah. But, I don't think he really caught onto anything. I just told him we met real quick then left, and he didn't question it." You sigh. "But otherwise, the rest of the day was good. Exhausting. I had tons of students coming into office hours so I ended up being done a little later than expected."

"Planning their proposals for finals?" You nod.

"Yup!"

"I know the feeling." You laugh, helping him grab the bowls and taking it over to the living room. You plop next to him on the couch, already flipping through options for tonight. You settle for rewatching The Walking Dead, San chuckling at your pick to sit through while eating dinner. You manage to yap away in between bites of your aburasoba, San only humming or giving you short answers in response.

At first, you don't think much about it. You assume he's exhausted and he's trying his best to keep you company like the good man he is. But then, you turn and he's not really watching. He's kinda scrolling through his phone, setting it aside then blankly looking at the TV. It's obvious San isn't entirely present. It's obvious he's got things in his mind, and you're not sure if you did anything wrong or if something happened in between the time you two were apart—

But, he seems unhappy and you wish you could fix whatever it is.

"Babe." 

"Hm?" He hums.

"What's wrong?" You turn over to look at him, cupping his cheek while you crawl onto his lap.

"Nothing." He chuckles and rubs your back, eyes looking deep into yours. All he sees is a personification of love, comfort. And nothing is harder than fighting the 'what if's' in his head when you look at him the way you do, when you touch him the way you do. "Nothing baby, sorry. I'm just really exhausted." He doesn't like to lie, but he sees the soft smile that grows on your face when you receive his reassurance and he can't help but brush it under the rug.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He nods. "Yeah, baby." Though, he isn't. 

"Okay." You kiss him on the lips and caress his cheek, smiling at him. His heart aches because he thinks about all the moments you've had to share secretly or behind doors, not being able to put your relationship out there like you both wish to. He finally lets the 'what if's' free, thinking about how this could affect your future, you;

He can't help but feel like, maybe, you deserved better than this.

—read 11.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[ecstxsyy]

SAY YES. | VIKTOR ❦

You love to mess with Viktor’s head.

based on this ask.

18+ mdni!

viktor x fem lab partner!reader

warnings: oral (m&f!receiving), fingering, 69ing, viktor definitely whines when he gets head idc.

requests for v-day event are closed!!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

VIKTOR OFTEN found it difficult to work with you around and he hated you for it, he hated the way his mind went fuzzy every time you bent over and he got a view straight down your flowy top, he hated the way he swore you did it on purpose, smirking when you’d catch him adjusting himself in his trousers.

You knew the effect you had on him, in fact, you used it to your advantage. You loved the way the slim boy went beet-red when you sucked on the end of your pen, making sure to make direct eye contact with him once while doing it. Your torment had gotten to the point where Viktor brought it to Jayce, complaining about how you were nothing but a distraction in the lab.

Jayce, of course, disagreed. He knew you had a brilliant mind, but he too loved to watch the way you messed with Viktor. His smaller companion oftentimes took things too seriously, was too focused on the development of Hextech to care about anything else, let alone having a romantic life.

Tonight was the Valentine’s Day Gala and Jayce intended to attend with Mel, but he knew Viktor would just hole up in the lab. That’s where you came in, you didn't have a date to the gala so you decided to not go, curling up in your bed. As you finished getting comfortable, a knock sounded throughout your bed chambers. You let out a loud sigh and sat up, preparing to talk to whoever it was.

“Come in,” you shouted, but before you could get the full sentence out, Jayce barged in. He was fitted in a white and red suit, looking ready for tonight's festivities.

“Why even bother knocking?” you snorted, flopping back down into your bed. Jayce was silent as he grabbed the bottom of your duvet, yanking it off of you and exposing you to the chill air of your room.

“Get dressed, you’re gonna go hang out in the lab with Vik,” Jayce announced, clearly meaning for it to be an order.

“Why would I do that? The guy hates me,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“No he doesn't, he’s just very….. blunt,” Jayce smiled, trying to persuade you.

“What do I get out of it?” you asked with a raised brow.

“I’ll finally start the process of making you that Hextech curling iron,” Jayce chuckled, he knew how badly you wanted him to make a curling iron that did all of the work for you. A grin spread across your face as you got up to put on something appropriate for the lab, but inappropriate enough to get under Viktor’s skin.

“You better have the designs for it done by tomorrow afternoon,” you yelled to him from your walk-in closet as you got dressed.

You stepped out once you were ready, grabbing your notebooks and sketches to at least try and get something done in the lab. Jayce waited at the door for you, walking you to the lab on his way to the ballroom.

You bid your goodbyes to Jayce as you reached the large doors, but the sight that greeted you once you opened the door had you shocked, to say the least. Viktor was standing near the Hexcore in only his undergarments, runes carved into his pale skin. Your gasp caught his attention, the strings of light connecting Viktor to the Hexcore dissipating quickly.

“What are you doing here?” his voice was sharp and laced with venom.

“Uh.. Jayce- um.. he uh-” Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your words were stuck in your throat.

“Jayce what?” Viktor spit, this made you snap. You made your way over to Viktor and yanked him away from the Hexcore, pushing him onto the couch on the far wall.

“What the hell were you doing? You know that thing is dangerous,” you spat back, grabbing some gauze to wrap around the open wounds in the shape of wild runes.

“That is none of your business,” he dismissed, letting you wrap up his wounds. From where you knelt by his leg, he had the perfect view down your shirt. This made his brain begin to spiral, your breasts seemed to be the center of all of his problems. Anytime they came into gaze, his big plan went out the window. All he wanted to do was bury his head between them and never come out, and in his mind, it made him weak.

While he was lost in his spiral of thoughts, your eyes trailed up to his, catching the way he seemed almost hypnotized. You were confused for a moment until you followed his gaze directly to your breasts, you knew he looked, but you’d never actually caught him in the act.

“Viktor,” you said barely above a whisper, his gaze slowly moved up to meet yours, but not before pausing on your lips on the way.

“Hmm?” he replied, still slightly in a daze from the power of the Hexcore (and your boobs). You smiled and rubbed your hand up his bare thigh, letting your fingers graze the hem of his undergarments before pulling away.

“Why do you hate me so much?” you asked, your eyes boring into his amber ones. Viktor sighed, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t hate you, you’re just infuriating,” he groaned out, watching as you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“I can’t focus with you around, every single thing you do makes my thoughts go blurry,” Viktor admitted with a sigh, placing his hand on top of yours. You smiled cheekily, you never knew it affected him as much as it truly does.

You and Viktor shared a look before something else caught your attention, the tent in Viktor’s undergarments was prominent. Why was it always the skinny guys that were absolutely hung? You thought, drool pooling in your mouth.

“Can I?” You asked, motioning to his clear erection. Viktor said nothing but nodded, leaning back into the couch behind him. Your hands slipped into the waistband of his undergarment, his hips lifting almost involuntarily to give you space to pull them down. His length sprang free from the confines of the fabric, his tip a drastically different color than the rest of him.

“Poor boy, I bet it’s been a while since you’ve gotten some relief,” you coed and Viktor nodded, whining for your touch.

You decided to give him what he wanted and took him into your mouth, you could feel every detail of his cock in your mouth. The veins that poked out of the side, the fat mushroom tip, and the way his balls tightened and released with every swirl of your tongue.

“Wait,” Viktor breathed out, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” you asked, the confusion evident in your face.

“God, no. I just want to make sure you get the pleasure you deserve too,” he began, “please sit on my face.” Viktor begged. You giggled and patted his knee at his eagerness.

“What about your-” Viktor cut you off quickly.

“I’m fine, please.” he pleaded, lying down fully on the couch. You obliged and stood up, squatting carefully over his face in reverse cowgirl. You moved to put his cock back in your mouth, but before you could, Viktor yanked you down on his face. He could care less if you suffocated his small frame, he’d waited too long for this to squander the moment.

Viktor’s tongue delved into your folds, finding your clit with a quickness you didn't know he possessed. You moaned out loudly, grinding your hips into his mouth when his hand planted itself on your spine, pushing your body down towards his cock.

You smiled at his eagerness and got back to work, you sucked his length into your mouth immediately, using one hand to jerk off what you couldn't fit in your mouth and the other to play with his balls. Viktor let out a loud whiny moan, bucking his hips up into you causing you to gag on his cock. You loved how pathetic he sounded, how desperate he was for you.

The faster you moved, the faster he moved. At this point, it was a competition of who could make who finish first. But, you loved a challenge.

Your hand twisted while jerking up and down, massaging his balls thoroughly with the other. Viktor always imagined how you’d suck him off, but he never could have imagined it’d be this good. He swore he was seeing stars, there was absolutely no way he was outlasting you.

Viktor’s hands moved to your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He gave your clit a hard suck before pulling away, spitting a glob of saliva on your puffy clit. You gasped at the sensation, you never knew the scientist could be so lewd.

Your hips began to rock into his tongue, riding it to get to your orgasm. Viktor tightened his grip, halting your movements against him.

“So impatient,” Viktor hummed against you, using his mouth to make suction around your clit. His fingers eventually got bored and made their way to your weeping hole, sliding inside of you slowly. The chill of them made you shiver as he worked them into you. He was getting you so close, but you refused to lose.

You had one last trick up your sleeve, you took his cock out of your mouth, using your hands to jerk it while your tongue ventured lower. Your tongue grazed Viktor’s rim and he nearly screamed, bucking his hips into your hand while his load shot out of his angry red tip.

You giggled in delight, putting your mouth on his cock to swallow his sticky semen. Viktor whimpered beneath you, small whines and moans tumbling from his mouth. Once you were sure he was done cumming, you came up for air and began riding his face to chase your own orgasm.

Viktor used his teeth to lightly nip at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers stroking your g-spot. This sent you over the edge, your orgasm making your body relax into his underneath you.

“You taste so good,” Viktor moaned into your pussy, taking one last lick before letting go of you to get up and lie next to him, cuddling into his side. The two of you sat in silence for a while, letting your sweaty skin rest against each other.

“I’m sorry I complained to Jayce about you,” Viktor said apologetically.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I always mess with you,” you apologized in turn.

Maybe your torment paid off after all.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[dexteri0us]

you could be the one that could mess me up; you could be the one that'll break me down

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, college!au, summer camp!au, rivalry

summary: what’s tougher: coaching science-crazed kids or competing with Dexter for the camp championship?

w/c: like 3k

a/n: a little something for my fellow Dexter fans

The sun was beating down on the field, and you were already starting to regret not grabbing your water bottle. Your team of elementary schoolers was bouncing around you like they’d been given espresso shots instead of juice boxes, their energy sky-high for the last day of camp. And who could blame them? Today was the big showdown – the ultimate battle between Team A and Team B. Your team, obviously, was Team A which, you reminded them every chance you got, was the first letter of the alphabet for a reason.

You scanned the field, making sure everyone had their places, when you saw a stray kickball, sitting just past the starting line. You sighed. As much as you loved your kids, “picking up after themselves” was an elusive skill for most of them. You told them to hold tight for a second and jogged over to retrieve it.

Just as you were about to grab the ball, you saw Dexter walking up beside you, giving you that unreadable look, as usual. You smirked before he even had a chance to speak.

“Well, if it isn’t the illustrious Team B leader himself,” you said, bending down to pick up the ball. “Here to observe greatness in action?” you asked with a proud smile on your face.

Dexter didn’t miss a beat, casually handing you a bottle of water and raising an eyebrow. “Greatness? I think you’re setting them up for disappointment.”

“Oh, really?” you grinned, turning to face him as you spun the ball between your pointer fingers before resting it on your hip and taking the water. “Coming from the guy whose team spent ten minutes building an egg drop contraption that looked like a rejected spaceship model?”

Dexter’s face didn’t change, but you could see the spark of amusement in his eyes. He took the smallest step forward, as if to intimidate you. “That ‘rejected spaceship model’ actually worked, if you remember correctly,” he replied smoothly. “Unlike some teams’ eggs, which ended up looking like scrambled breakfast.”

He was right, of course. His egg drop design looked like it had come from an old sci-fi movie, a quirky contraption with beams, paddings, and an absurd amount of plastic wrap. You had no idea where he got all that, either way, it worked.

It wasn’t even surprising; Dexter had always taken unexpected routes to solve problems. His mind just worked differently. You knew he had a wild imagination; you could tell when he’d shown you some of his high school lab projects, each one stranger and more intricate than the last, and always with that unmistakable Dexter touch that landed him at the top of the class every time. Even now in college, he was still securing the highest grades, beating out students who had twice the resources and flashy internships.

Honestly, Dexter was probably the smartest person you knew, and being able to go toe-to-toe with him here at camp wasn’t just a thrill – it was an honor.

It was part of what made this science camp so special. It wasn’t just some neighborhood summer program; it was hosted by your college’s STEM department, high-level experience for kids that were intrigued by the world of science. Or even those who were just curious about the basic laws of nature ruling our world. The camp was selective about who it chose to lead, and the program heads always made sure to match top students with the best opportunities.

You knew Dexter had signed up for the challenge partly because he’d mentioned wanting to “quit an old habit” and keep himself busy during summer. He hadn’t told you much beyond that – just something vague about needing to break a pattern, occupy his time in a way that felt constructive. This camp, with its structure, routine and purpose was a way for him to do that.

And then, there was the way he was around kids. Despite his reserved nature, he seemed at ease with them, almost unguarded. Dexter seemed different, and only a few people got to experience this side of him. He once joked to you that kids’ brains were underdeveloped enough that he didn’t have to fake emotions or second-guess his reactions around them.

But right now, there was a different Dexter in front of you – not a soft Dexter, not a reserved Dexter. There was a smirking, overly confident camp leader Dexter who thought he could take you down. You hated that he felt comfortable enough to be this cocky towards you. So no, you weren’t about to let your admiration show. You'd have enough time to let yourself sneak a few appreciative glances at him when he wasn’t looking, but right here, with the competition about to continue? You weren’t going to let him talk you down.

You stepped closer too, having to crane your neck a little to keep eye contact. “Don’t worry. My team and I have an actual strategy. Not just a bunch of science facts thrown together like a five-paragraph essay.”

He snorted, his eyebrows rising. “It’s a science camp. Facts are kind of the point. Your strategy is taking the name Team A and thinking that it will actually secure you the first place.”

You scoffed and turned around, walking towards your team and Dexter was quick to follow you.

 “First letter, first place. It’s called manifestation. It’s like destiny. We’re literally setting ourselves up for success from the start.”

He shook his head with a little laugh. “You realize it’s just a letter, right? It doesn’t have, like, mystical powers or anything.”

You couldn’t help but cackle, his words making you stop again and some of the smaller heads turn in your direction, silently watching the respected leaders of the science camp bicker. He was unbelievable.

“Please, you’re just pissed that I called it first.”

Despite Dexter being stoic and unpopular among his peers, he was good with kids, and you were aware of that. He was a lab geek to everyone, even his fellow students who majored in science too -- everyone was supposed to be a lab geek! - But most didn’t know that he was actually very creative. You knew that and this was just bitterness talking.

“It’s the first thing people see, the first letter people think of. It exudes victory. Doesn’t Team B just sound… second-rate by comparison?”

He gave you a deadpan look, which only made you want to argue for your team more.

“Team B,” he said, with an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, “actually stands for best. Maybe even better. I wouldn’t be so quick to assume we’re coming in second.”

You shook your head and bit your cheek, contemplating your next words. You brought the ball that was on your hip to his chest, slightly pushing him with it, but he didn’t budge. He just took it as he waited for your next remark.

“My Team A kids are about to wipe the floor with your Team Better.”

He chuckled and threw the ball into the air before catching it. “We’ll see about that,” he said, eyes glinting with that calm confidence that always got under your skin.

You turned to your group again, arms stretched for emphasis. “See? He’s already trying to play mind games because he knows Team A is unstoppable!”

The kids cheered, and you looked back at Dexter, who was fighting a grin.

“Careful,” he said, “I’d hate to see you go down after all that talk.”

You leaned closer, and you saw his eyelids flutter, finally a sign of weakness.

“And I’d hate to see you hand over those first-place prizes with that smug look wiped off your face.”

You found yourselves in a silent, smirking standoff. His lips curved ever so slightly, daring you to say something more. The corners of your mouth tugged upward in response. You weren't backing down, and neither was he, testing each other, seeing who would blink first. You let your eyes drop just briefly, enough to catch the flutter of his lashes, but a voice from behind cut through the haze, breaking the moment like a splash of cold water.

“You’re going down, Mr. Dexter!”

You both turned toward your team, seeing one of the more spirited girls in your group, Sarah, giving Dexter a withering stare.

You crossed your arms, looking at Dexter. “See? You’ve gotta inspire these kids, Dexter. Get them excited! Pumped!” you slapped his triceps as if to emphasize your point, and he side-eyed you. “No wonder Team B’s lagging behind,” you switched your expression to an exaggerated pity, sighing and shaking your head.

“Alright,” he murmured, your trash talking finally getting to him. “I gotta go. I have to tell my team about Team A’s lack of structural integrity and how we’re going to crush them in the obstacle course.”

You gave him a taunting smile, before he walked away.

“And thanks for the water!” you lifted the bottle in the air and he turned, nodding at you with a genuine smile. Before he headed to his kids, he made a stop where your team was hanging. Despite him being the leader of the opposing team, instead of being intimidated or intimidating, the kids smiled at him, some of them running up to him and showing him a bug they just found in the grass.

You watched him stop right in front of Sarah, crouching down to her eye level with an inquisitive look. “Did I just hear you say I’m going down?”

She shifted her feet, but held her ground, her cheeks red. Kind of like you when you first met him. “Well…yeah!” she crossed her arms, mustering her bravest face. Honestly, you couldn’t be prouder. “We’re Team A, so we’re winning this competition – duh! Plus, we have Ms. YN, and you don’t!”

“Point taken, Sarah,” he said with a chuckle. “I think you’re ready to start a motivational business someday.” The kids giggled, including Sarah who had a proud smile on her face. Dexter raised his eyebrows expectantly, offering his hand to Sarah. “May the best team win, then.”

She shook his hand and with one last look to you, he left. You made your way to your team and gave Sarah and some other kids high-five.

“Did you see his face, Ms. YN? He knows we’re gonna win!”

You laughed, nodding. “Oh, he definitely knows. Let’s make sure he remembers it.”

You sat in your chair and watched your kids, dressed in their teams’ tie-dyed orange t-shirts as some of them were clutching their juice boxes trying the slurp up the last drop, some were still playing with their DIY space shuttles from the NASA day, and some were playing tag or patty cake with each other.

It had been a great few weeks and you couldn't believe the camp was almost over. It was always hard for you to say goodbye. Some of the kids came back every year and you were happy to see their faces. Of course, there is a few bad eggs, but the overall experience was always amazing. And even though it might have not seemed that way, you enjoyed sharing that experience with Dexter, who was one of the smartest people you knew.

You turned around, looking in the direction of his team, watching him sitting on the ground, stealing Franklin’s hat, exposing the boy’s ruffled hair as Dexter put it on his own head, the hat obviously too small for him. Franklin tried to get it back, reaching for it, but Dexter quickly snatched it away and held it out of his reach, making the boy crawl over him as he laughed hysterically.

Your heart fluttered at the sight, but you shook it off, turning back to your team and making a regular head count.

The rest of the afternoon flew by as the competition heated up. Your team was cheering like maniacs after each round, pumping each other up with a team spirit that only a summer camp could create.

Next up was a chemistry challenge, where each team had to mix different chemicals to create a specific color in their beakers. Your team surged ahead, mixing the combination quickly, while Dexter’s team carefully measured out each drop.

“Come on, Team A! Don’t let Team B show us up!” you encouraged, but your team’s rush and Dexter’s team’s focus worked in his favor, adding a few point to his part of the scoreboard.

As the afternoon wore on, the two groups moved from one challenge to the next, each victory and loss met with cheers and groans. Finally, the last event arrived: the biology obstacle course. The campers were buzzing with excitement, and you could barely contain your grin as you glanced across the field at Dexter. The score was pretty much tied, and it all came down to this.

“Alright, A’s,” you said, crouching down to your group’s level. “This is it. Remember to have fun, and let’s give it everything we’ve got.”

The obstacle course was a test of agility and knowledge. Each camper had to climb through a “jungle” of hanging ropes, identify plastic animal replicas hidden among the trees, and finish by sprinting to the finish line with a “baby bird” (a rubber ball) in a spoon.

Your team went first, charging through the course with surprising speed. Dexter was impressed but kept his expression neutral. His campers were determined to outdo them, each one putting in their best effort as they charged through the course, cheered on by Dexter’s calm, steady encouragement.

When the final camper crossed the finish line, you and Dexter called your teams together to tally up the points. The competition had been so close that neither group was sure who had won.

“Alright,” Dexter said, reading off the scorecard. “And the winner is…” he paused, dramatically prolonging the suspense, while you shot him an exaggerated look of impatience.

“Team A!” he announced, unable to keep from smiling as your team erupted in cheers. He felt bad for his team, but a flicker of pride rose in his chest as he watched you celebrate with your kids, hugging a few of the campers. You shot Dexter a smug, triumphant look, mouthing “I told you so.”

The losing team received consolation prizes – a handful of science-themed chocolate bars and some novelty key chains shaped like tiny beakers and DNA strands. The kids took it all in stride, laughing and goofing off as they filed back to their cabins, waving at you and Dexter as they disappeared down the paths.

You and Dexter began gathering up the supplies left over from the relay race. Every so often, you’d bump shoulders or catch each other’s eyes and share a smile.

As the last of the campers drifted out of view, you took a long breath, letting it out slowly as the day’s exhaustion sank into your muscles. You stretched your arms overhead, feeling that familiar soreness, and smiled as you glanced over at him.

“Guess that makes me the science camp champion, huh?”

Dexter chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “For this year, maybe. Next year, though, don’t get too comfortable.”

You laughed, feeling a spark of joy as you realized, yes, you would look forward to next year – another summer with him, another chance to see this side of him. You were alone by now, perched on the steps of the main cabin where the camp leaders, cooks, and cleaners stayed during camp sessions. You leaned back, savoring the quiet, the fading light of the day casting a soft glow over the campgrounds.

Dexter sat down beside you, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed out at the now-quiet field, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. After a moment, you scooted closer, letting your chin dig into his shoulder. Gently, you threaded your arm through his, reaching for his hand and giving it a small squeeze. He looked down, his expression softening as he turned to you, and suddenly you were so close your noses were almost touching, the fading sunlight casting shadows over his features and catching on the ginger stubble along his jawline.

“Same time, same place?” you murmured, your voice low and quiet.

Dexter didn’t answer – not with words, anyway. Instead, he lifted a hand to brush away the baby hair from your forehead before closing the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

You always made his heart beat so fast, he didn’t know how it hadn't burst already. You were one of two things that made him feel this way and it was a perfect balance of light and darkness.

His stubble scratched lightly against your skin, a slight irritation that you secretly loved. It made you smile against his lips, feeling a familiar thrill rush through you.

You remember teasing him about it early on in your relationship, only for him to take it too literally and show up the next day, clean-shaven. You’d laughed, explaining that it was just a joke, and that you loved his rough edges. It made you love him more, it was just so Dexter.

Since then, he’d kept his natural look, but sometimes, you’d see that flicker of hesitation, trying to understand the meaning behind your words and actions. It reminded you how hard he tried to learn the language of affection, your love language, and you tried to learn and understand his. It put you into perfect synchrony.

He leaned into the kiss with more force before pulling away and letting his forehead rest against yours, noses brushing as he lingered there, his hand still holding yours as you drew circles on his skin with your thumb.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, his usual calm and stoic replaced by a rare warmth as he looked at you.

You smiled and kissed his shoulder before resting your head against it, letting your eyes close for just a moment.

“It’s so quiet.” you sighed, enjoying the peaceful moment. That’s something you'd missed. Even though you loved the camp, you weren't really a fan of chaos, and this? Having the moment to breathe in the warm scent of pine trees, to hear the birds singing and crickets chirping and to be in Dexter’s embrace is like a reward.

“Funny you’d say that, considering how much noise you make.” He glanced down at you, raising his eyebrows. “Half the chaos around here has been you cheering your team to victory.”

You scoffed, too tired to put up a fight this time. “I’m just an enthusiastic leader.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, a hint of smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re definitely enthusiastic. I’m pretty sure you broke the sound barrier.”

You poked him in the ribs, and he genuinely laughed. A sound that you appreciated greatly, because you were one of the few people that got to hear it. As his laughter faded, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly to the crown of your head.

You watched the sun dip lower, your heart full as you let yourself drift into the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing.

a/n2: thanks for making it this far! soo, what do we think? i'll appreciate any kind of feedback! also, i'd love to explore this relationship more, so maybe we'll see these two again!